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",oC ■ -ScJL t< O

(V) RJL.D. 7;

Vl.T) .T"

V2

' '7

A SYSTEM

OP

SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY.

VOL. VI.

THE PRINCIPLES

01

SOCIOLOGY

BY

HERBERT SPENCER.

VOL. L

THIRD EDITION— REVISED AND ENLARGED.

WILLIAMS AND NORGATB,

14 HENRIETTA STREET, CO VENT GARDEN, LONDON j
akx> 20, SOUTH FREDERICK PLACE, EDINBURGH.

1885.

The Bight of Translation it Reserved.

LONDON
PRINTED BT HARRISON AND SONS,
ST. martin's LANE.

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

In this third edition of the Principles of Sociology, Vol. I,
several improvements of importance have been made. The
text has been revised ; references to the works quoted and
cited have been supplied ; the appendices have been enlarged;
and the work has now an index.

Each chapter has been carefully gone through for the
purpose of removing defects of expression and with a view
to condensation. By erasing superfluous words and phrases,
I have reduced the text to the extent of forty pages, not-
withstanding the incorporation here and there of a further
illustration. This abridgment, however, has not diminished
the bulk of the volume; since the additions above named
occupy much more space than has been gained.

In the preface to the first edition, I explained how it
happened that the reader was provided with no adequate means
of verifying any of the multitudinous statements quoted;
and with the explanation I joined the expression of a hope
that I might eventually remove the defect. By great labour
the defect has now been removed — almost though not abso-
lutely. Some years ago I engaged a gentleman who had
been with me as secretary, Mr. P. B. Smith, since deceased,
to furnish referenced; and with the aid of the Descriptive
Sociology where this availed, and where it did not by going
to the works of the authors quoted, he succeeded in finding
the great majority of the passages. Still, however, there
remained numerous gaps. Two years since I arranged
with a skilled bibliographer, Mr. Tedder, the librarian of
the Athensum Club, to go through afresh all the quota-

VI PEBFACK TO THE THIRD EDITION

tions, and to supply the missing references while checking
the references Mr. Smith had given. By an unwearied
labour which surprised me, Mr. Tedder discovered the greatei
part of the passages to which references had not been sup-
plied. The number of those which continued undiscovered
was reduced by a third search, aided by clues contained
in the original MS., and by information I was able to give.
There now remain less than 2 per cent, of unreferenced
statements.

The supplying of references was not, however, the sole
purpose to be achieved. Removal of inaccuracies was a
further purpose. The Descriptive Sociology, from which nume-
rous quotations were made, had passed through stages each
of which gave occasion for errors. In the extracts as copied
by the compilers, mistakes, literal and verbal, were certain
to be not uncommon. Proper names of persons, peoples,
and places, not written with due care, were likely to be in
many cases mis-spelled by the printers. Thus, believing
that there were many defects which, though not diminishing
the values of the extracts as pieces of evidence, rendered
them inexact, I desired that while the references to them
were furnished, comparisons of them with the originals
should be made. This task has been executed by Mr.
Tedder with scrupulous care; so that his corrections have
extended even to additions and omissions of commas.
Concerning the results of his examination, he has written me
the following letter : —

July, 1885.
Dear Mr. Spencer,

In the second edition (1877) of the Principles of Sociology,
Vol. I, placed in my hands, there were 2,192 references to the
379 works quoted. In the new edition there are about 2,500
references to 455 works. All of these references, with the
exception of about 45, have been compared with the originals.

In the course of verification I have corrected numerous
trifling errors. They were chiefly literal, and included para-
phrases made by the compilers of the Descriptive Sociology

PREFACE TO THE THIBD EDITION. VU

which had been wrongly inserted within quotation marks.
There was a small proportion of verbal errors, among which
were instances of facts quoted with respect to particular
tribes which the original authority had asserted generally of
the whole cluster of tribes — facts, therefore, more widely
true than you had alleged.

The only instances I can recall of changes affecting the
value of the statements as evidence were (1) in a passage
from the Iliad, originally taken from an inferior translation ;
(2) the deletion of the reference (on p. 298 of second edition)
as to an avoidance by the Hindus of uttering the sacred
name Om.

Among the 455 works quoted there are only six which are
of questionable authority ; but the citations from these are
but few in number, and I see no reason to doubt the accuracy
of the information for which they are specially responsible.

I am,
Faithfully yours,

Henry R Teddee.

The statement above named as one withdrawn, was com-
mented on by Prof. Max Mliller in his Hibbert Lectures ;
in which he also alleged that I had erred in asserting that the
Egyptians abstained from using the sacred name Osiris. This
second alleged error I have dealt with in a note on page 274,
where I think it is made manifest that Prof. Max Mliller
would have done well to examine the evidence more carefully
before committing himself.

The mention of Prof. Max Mliller reminds me of another
matter concerning which a few words are called for. In an
article on this volume in its first edition, published in
the Pall Mall Gozette for February 21st, 1877, it was said
that the doctrine propounded in Part I, in opposition to that
of the comparative mythologists, " will shortly be taken up,
as we understand, by persons specially competent in that
department." When there were at length, in 1878, announced
Pro£ Max Miiller's Lectures on the Origin and Growth
of Religion, etc., etc., I concluded that my curiosity to see a
reply would at last be gratified. But on turning over the

Vlll PBEFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

published report of his lectures, I discovered no attempt to
deal with the hypothesis that religion is evolved from the
ghost-theory : the sole reference to it being, as Mr. Andrew
Lang remarks, some thirteen lines describing "psycholatry*
as exhibited in Africa. The work proved to be a super-
fluous polemic against the hypothesis that fetishism is the
primitive form of religion — superfluous, I say, because this
hypothesis had been, I think, effectually disposed of by me
in the first edition of this volume. Why Prof. Max Muller
should have expended so much labour in disproving a doc-
trine already disproved, is not clear. Still less clear is it why,
having before him the volume, and adversely criticizing
certain statements in it referred to above, he entirely ignored
the chapter in which was already done that which his lectures
proposed to do.

What was the indirect purpose of his lectures I do not
understand. He could not himself have supposed that a
refutation of the fetish-theory was a refutation of the theory
now standing opposed to his own ; though it is not impro-
bable that many of his hearers and readers, supposed that it
was.

Concerning the new matter, little needs to be said. To
Appendix A, entitled "Further Illustrations of Primitive
Thought," the additions are such as practically to constitute it
a second demonstration of the thesis demonstrated in Part I.
To Appendix B, on "The Mythological Theory," a section
has been prefixed. And Appendix C, on " The Linguistic
Method of the Mycologists " is new.

Baysivaier, July, 1885.

PREFACE TO VOL. I.

Fob the Science of Society, the name rt Sociology * was intro-
duced by M. Comte. Partly because it was in possession of
the field, and partly because no other name sufficiently com-
prehensive existed, I adopted it. Though repeatedly blamed
by those who condemn the word as Na barbarism," I do not
regret having done so. To use, as some have suggested, the
word * Politics/' too narrow in its meaning as well as mis-
leading in its connotations, would be deliberately to create
confusion for the sake of avoiding a defect of no practical
moment. The heterogeneity of our speech is already so great
that nearly every thought is expressed in words taken from
two or three languages. Already, too, it has many words
formed in irregular ways from heterogeneous roots. Seeing
this, I accept without much reluctance another such word :
believing that the convenience and suggestiveness of our
symbols are of more importance than the legitimacy of their
derivation.

Probably some surprise will be felt that, containing as this
work does multitudinous quotations from numerous authors,
there are no references at the bottoms of pages. Some words
of explanation seem needful. If foot-notes are referred to,
the thread of the argument is completely broken ; and even
if they are not referred to, attention is disturbed by the con-
sciousness that they are there to be looked at. Hence a loss
of effect and a loss of time. As I intended to use as data for
the conclusions set forth in this work, the compiled and
classified facts forming the Descriptive Sociology, it occurred
to me that since the arrangement of those facts is such that

X PREFACE TO VOL. L

the author's name and the race referred to being given, the
extract may in each case be found, and with it the reference,
it was needless to waste space and hinder thought with these
distracting foot-notes. I therefore decided to omit them. In
so far as evidence furnished by the uncivilized races is con-
cerned (which forms the greater part of the evidence con-
tained in this volume), there exists this means of verification
in nearly all cases. I found, however, that many facts from
other sources had to be sought out and incorporated ; and not
liking to change the system I had commenced with, I left
them in an un verifiable state. I recognize the defect, and
hope hereafter to remedy it In succeeding volumes I pro-
pose to adopt a method of reference which will give the
reader the opportunity of consulting the authorities cited,
while his attention to them will not be solicited.

The instalments of which this volume consists were issued
to the subscribers at the following dates : — No. 35 (pp. 1 — 80)
in June, 1874; No. 36 (pp. 81—160) in November, 1874;
No. 37 (pp. 161—240) in February, 1875 ; No. 38 (pp. 241—
320) in May, 1875 ; No. 39 (pp. 321—400) in September,
1875 ; No. 40 (pp. 401—462, with Appendices A & B) in
December, 1875; No. 41 (pp. 465—544) in April, 1876;
No. 42 (pp. 545—624) in July, 1876 ; and No. 43 (pp. 625—
704) in December, 1876 ; an extra No. (44) issued in June,
1877, completing the volume.

With this No. 44, the issue of the System of Synthetic
Philosophy to subscribers, ceases : the intention being to
publish the remainder of it in volumes only. The next
volume will, I hope, be completed in 1880.

London, December, 1876.

CONTENTS OF YOL L

■I

Paot l— the data of sociology.

CHAP.

I. — SUPER-ORGANIC EVOLUTION
II. — THE FACTORS OF SOCIAL PHENOMENA
III.— ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS
IV.— ORIGINAL INTERVAL FACTORS
V. — THE PRIMITIVE MAN — PHYSICAL..
YI. — THE PRIMITIVE MAN — EMOTIONAL
TIL — THE PRIMITIVE MAN — INTELLECTUAL
VIII. — PRIMITIVE IDEAS
IX. — THE IDEA OF THE ANIMATE AND INANIMATE
X. — THE IDEAS OF SLEEP AND DREAMS
XI. — THE IDEAS OF SWOON, APOPLEXY, CATALEPSY, ECSTASY,

AND OTHER FORMS OF INSENSIBILITY
Xn. — THE IDEAS OF DEATH AND RESURRECTION. .
XIII. — THE IDEAS OF SOULS, GHOSTS, SPIRITS, DEMONS, ETC
XIV. — THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER LIFE . .
XV. — THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER WORLD..
XVI. — THE IDEAS OF SUPERNATURAL AGENTS
XVII. — SUPERNATURAL AGENTS AS CAUSING EPILEPSY AND
CONVULSIVE ACTIONS, DELIRIUM AND INSANITY, DIS
EASE AND DEATH
XYin. — INSPIRATION, DIVINATION, EXORCISM, AND 80RCEKY .
XIX. — SACRED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS ; SACRIFICE

FASTING, AND PROPITIATION ; PRAISE, PRAYER, ETC.
XX. — ANCESTOR- WORSHIP IN GENERAL..
XXI. — IDOL-WORSHIP AND FETICH-WORSHIP
XXII. — ANIMAL- WORSHIP
XXm. — PLANT-WORSHIP
XXIV. — NATURE-WORSHIP
XXV. — DEITIES

• •

• •

• •

PAGE

3 \J
8

\s

7

16 L

40

53

73 !

92 v
123 v
132

143
151 x
169 l
181 v/
198 '
215v

223

233 v'

249 N
280 v
300 .
322
347 .
360 ,
385 '

Xll

CONTENTa

CHAP.

\l XXVI. — THE PBnflTTVB THEORY of things
XXV1L — THE 8COPE OF SOCIOLOGY

• •

• •

• •

PAGE
412

424

Tart II.— THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

J I. — WHAT IS A SOCIETY? •• . . .. .. 435

^ II. — A SOCIETY 18 All ORGANISM . . . . . . 437

III. — SOCIAL GROWTH . . . . . . . . 451

IV. — SOCIAL STRUCTURES .. .. .. .. 459

V. — SOCIAL FUNCTIONS .. •• .. .. 473

*' VI. — SYSTEMS OF ORGANS .. .• .. .. 479

VII. — THE SUSTAINING SYSTEM .. .. .. 486

VIII. — THE DISTRIBUTING SYSTEM .. .. .. 493

\! IX. — THE REGULATING SYSTEM .. .. .. 507

X. — SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS . . . . 537

XI. — SOCIAL METAMORPHOSES •• .. .. 564

XII. — QUALIFICATIONS AND SUMMARY .. . . . . 576

Part III.— DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

-\

» •

I. — THE MAINTENANCE OF SFECIEB ..

II. — THE DIVERSE INTERESTS OF THE SPECIES, OF

PARENTS, AND OF THE OFFSPRING
in. — PRIMITIVE RELATIONS OF THE SEXES
IV. — EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY

V. — PROMISCUITY
VI. — POLYANDRY ..

THE

• •

VII. — POLYGYNY
Vni. — MONOGAMY ..
IX. — THE FAMILY..
X. — THB STATUS OF WOMEN
XI. — THE STATUS OF CHILDREN
XII. — DOMESTIC RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT

591

594

eoi

611
631
G42
652
667
674
713
733
745

Appendices

A. — FURTHER ILLUSTRATIONS OF PRIMITIVE THOUGHT

B. — THB MYTHOLOGICAL THEORY ••

0. — THE LINGUISTIC METHOD OF THE MYTHOLOGISTS

• •

765
818
830

CHAPTEE I.

SUPEB-OBGANIC EVOLUTION.

§ 1. Of the three broadly-distinguished kinds of Evo-
lution outlined in First Principles, we come now to the
third. The first kind, Inorganic Evolution, which, had it
been dealt with, would have occupied two volumes, one
dealing with Astrogeny and the other with Geogeny, was
passed over because it seemed undesirable to postpone the
more important applications of the doctrine for the purpose
of elaborating those less important applications which logi-
cally precede them. The four volumes succeeding First
Principles, have dealt with Organic Evolution : two of them
with those physical phenomena presented by living aggre-
gates, vegetal and animal, of all classes; and the other
two with those more special phenomena distinguished as
psychical, which the most evolved organic aggregates dis-
play. We now enter on the remaining division — Super-
organic Evolution.

Although this word is descriptive, and although in First
Principles, § 111, I used it with an explanatory sentence,
it will be well here to exhibit its meaning more fully.

§ 2. While we are occupied with the facts displayed by
on individual organism during its growth, maturity, and
decay, we are studying Organic Evolution. If we take into
account, as we must, the actions and reactions going on

n 2

4 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

between this organism and organisms of other kinds which
its life puts it in relations with, we still do not go beyond the
limits of Organic Evolution. Nor need we consider that
we exceed these limits on passing to the phenomena that
accompany the rearing of offspring ; though here, we see the
germ of a new order of phenomena. While recognizing the
fact that parental co-operation foreshadows processes of a
class beyond the simply organic ; and while recognizing the
fact that some of the products of parental co-operation, such
as nests, foreshadow products of the super-organic class ; we
may fitly regard Super- organic Evolution as commencing
only when there arises something more than the combined
efforts of parents. Of course no absolute separation exists.
If there has been Evolution, that forn^ of it here dis-
tinguished as super-organic must have come by insensible
steps out of the organic. But we may conveniently mark
it off as including all those processes and products which
imply the co-ordinated actions of many individuals.

There are various groups of super-organic phenomena,
of which certain minor ones may be briefly noticed here by
way of illustration.

§ 3. Of such the most familiar, and in some respects tlio
most instructive, are furnished by the social insects.

All know that bees and wasps form communities such that
the units and the aggregates stand in very definite relations.
Between the individual organization of the hive-bee and the
organization of the hive as an orderly aggregate of indivi-
duals with a regularly-formed habitation, there exists a
fixed connexion. Just as the germ of a wasp evolves into a
complete individual ; so does the adult queen-wasp, the germ
of a wasp-society, evolve into a multitude of individuals with
definitely-adjusted arrangements and activities. As evidence
that Evolution of this order has here arisen after the same
manner as the simpler orders of Evolution, it may be added
that, among both bees and wasps, different genera exhibit it

8UFKB-0BGANIC EVOLUTION. 5

in different degrees. From kinds that are solitary in their
habits, we pass through kinds that are social in small degrees
to kinds that are social in great degrees*

Among some species of ants, Super-organic Evolution is
carried much further — some species, I say ; for here, also, we
find that unlike stages have been reached by unlike species.
The most advanced show us division of labour carried so far
that different classes of individuals are structurally adapted
to different functions. White ants, or termites (which, how*
ever, belong to a different order of insects), have, in addition
to males and females, soldiers and workers ; and there are in
some cases two kinds of males and females, winged and
un winged: making six unlike forms. Of Sauba ants are
found, besides the two developed sexual forms, three forms
sexually undeveloped — one class of indoor workers and two
classes of out-door workers. And then by some species, a
further division of labour is achieved by making slaves
of other ants. There is also a tending of alien insects,
sometimes for the sake of their secretions, and sometimes
for unknown purposes; so that, as Sir John Lubbock
points out, some ants keep more domestic animals than
are kept by mankind. Moreover, among members of these
communities, there is a system of signalling equivalent
to a rude language, and there are elaborate processes of
mining, road -making, and building. In Congo, Tuckey
"found a complete banza [village] of ant-hills, placed with
more regularity than the native banzas"; and Schweinfurth
says a volume would be required to describe the magazines,
chambers, passages, bridges, contained in a termites-mound.

But, as hinted above, though social insects exhibit a kind
of evolution much higher than the merely organic — though
the aggregates they form simulate social aggregates in sundry
ways; yet they are not true social aggregates. For each
of them is in reality a large family. It is not a union among
like individuals independent of one another in parentage, and
approximately equal in their capacities; but it is a union

6 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

among the offspring of one mother, carried on, in some cases
for a single generation, and in some cases for more; and
from this community of parentage arises the possibility of
classes Iiaving unlike structures and consequent unlike functions.
Instead of being allied to the specialization which arises in
a society, properly so called, the specialization which arises
in one of these large and complicated insect-families, is allied
to that which arises between the sexes. Instead of two
kinds of individuals descending from the same parents, there
are several kinds of individuals descending from the same
parents ; and instead of a simple co-operation between two
differentiated individuals in tbe rearing of offspring, there
is an involved co-operation among sundry differentiated
classes of individuals in the rearing of offspring.

§ 4. True rudimentary forms of Super-organic Evolution
are displayed only by some of the higher vertebrata.

Certain birds form communities in which there is a small
amount of co-ordination. Ainong rooks we see such integra-
tion as is implied by the keeping-together of the same
families from generation to generation, and by the exclusion
of strangers. There is some vague control, some recog-
nition of proprietorship, some punishment of offenders, and
occasionally expulsion of them. A slight specialization is
shown in the stationing of sentinels while the flock feeds.
And usually we see an orderly action of the whole com-
munity in respect of going and coming. There has been
reached a co-operation comparable to that exhibited by those
small assemblages of the lowest human beings, in which
there exist no governments.

Gregarious mammals of most kinds display little more
than the union of mere association. In the supremacy of
the strongest male in the herd, we do, indeed, see a trace of
governmental organization. Some co-operation is shown, for
offensive purposes, by animals that hunt in packs, and for
defensive purposes by animals that are hunted ; as, according

8UPEB-0RGANIC EVOLUTION. 7

to Ross, by the North American buffaloes, the bulls of which
assemble to guard the cows during the calving-season against
wolves and bears. Certain gregarious mammals, however,
as the beavers, carry social co-operation to a considerable
extent in building habitations. Finally, among sundry of
the Primates, gregariousness is joined with some subordina-
tion, some combination, some display of the social sentiments.
There is obedience to leaders; there is union of efforts;
there are sentinels and signals ; there is an idea of property ;
there is exchange of services ; there is adoption of orphans ;
and the community makes efforts on behalf of endangered
members.

§ 5. These classes of truths, which might be enlarged upon
to much purpose, I have here indicated for several reasons.
Partly, it seemed needful to show that above organic evolu-
tion there tends to arise in various directions a further
evolution. Partly, my object has been to give a comprehensive
idea of this Super-organic Evolution, as not of one kind but
of various kinds, determined by the characters of the various
species of organisms among which it shows itself. And partly,
there has been the wish to suggest that Super-organic Evolu-
tion of the highest order, arises out of an order no higher
than that variously displayed in the animal world at large.

Having observed this much, we may henceforth restrict
ourselves to that form of Super-organic Evolution which so
immensely transcends all others in extent, in complication, in
importance, as to make them relatively insignificant. I refer
to the form of it which human societies exhibit in their
growths, structures, functions, products. To the phenomena
comprised in these, and grouped under the general title of
Sociology, we now pass.

CHAPTEE II.

THE FACTOES OF SOCIAL PHENOMENA.

§ 6. The behaviour of a single inanimate object depends
on the co-operation between its own forces and the forces
to which it is exposed : instance a piece of metal, the mole-
cules of which keep the solid state or assume the liquid
state, according partly to their natures and partly to the
heat-waves falling on them. Similarly with any group of
inanimate objects. Be it a cart-load of bricks shot down,
a barrowful of gravel turned over, or a boy's bag of marbles
emptied, the behaviour of the assembled masses — here stand-
ing in a heap with steep sides, here forming one with
sides much less inclined, and here spreading out and rolling
in all directions — is in each case determined partly by the
properties of the individual members of the group, and
partly by the forces of gravitation, impact, and friction, they
are subjected to.

It is equally so when the discrete aggregate consists of
organic bodies, such as the members of a species. For a
species increases or decreases in numbers, widens or contracts
its habitat, migrates or remains stationary, continues an old
mode of life or falls into a new one, under the combined
influences of its intrinsic nature and the environing actions,
inorganic and organic.

It is thus, too, with aggregates of men. Be it rudimentary
or be it advanced, every society displays phenomena that are

THE FACTORS OF SOCIAL PHENOMENA. 9

ascribable to the characters of its units and to the conditions
under which they exist. Here, then, are the factors as pri-
marily divided.

§ 7. These factors are re-divisible. Within each there are
groups of factors that stand in marked contrasts.

Beginning with the extrinsic factors, we see that from the
outset several kinds of them are variously operative. We
have climate ; hot, cold, or temperate, moist or dry, constant
or variable. We have surface; much or little of which is
available, and the available part of which is fertile in greater
or less degree; and we have configuration of surface, as
uniform or multiform. Next we have the vegetal produc-
tions; here abundant in quantities and kinds, and there
deficient in one or both. And besides the Flora of the region
we have its Fauna, which is influential in many ways ; not
only by the numbers of its species and individuals, but by
the proportion between those that are useful and those that
are injurious. On these sets of conditions, inorganic and
organic, characterizing the environment, primarily depends
the possibility of social evolution.

When we turn to the intrinsic factors we have to note
first, that, considered as a social unit, the individual man has
physical traits, such as degrees of strength, activity, endu-
rance, which affect the growth and structure of the society.
He is in every case distinguished by emotional traits which
aid, or hinder, or modify, the activities of the society, and
its developments. Always, too, his degree of intelligence
and the tendencies of thought peculiar to him, become
co-operating causes of social quiescence or social change.

Such being the original sets of factors, we have now to
note the secondary or derived sets of factors, which social
evolution itself brings into play*

§ 8. First may be set down the progressive modifications of
the environment, inorganic and organic, which societies effect.

10 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Among these are the alterations of climate caused by
clearing and by drainage. Such alterations may be favour-
able to social growth, as where a rainy region is made less
rainy by cutting down forests, or a swampy surface rendered
more salubrious and fertile by carrying off water* ; or they
may be unfavourable, as where, by destroying the forests, a
region already dry is made arid : witness the seat of the old
Semitic civilizations, and, in a less degree, Spain.

Next come the changes wrought in the kinds and quantities
of plant-life over the surface occupied. These changes are
three-fold. There is the increasing culture of plants con-
ducive to social growth, replacing plants not conducive to it ;
there is the gradual production of better varieties of these
useful plants, causing, in time, great divergences from their
originals ; and there is, eventually, the introduction of new
useful plants.

Simultaneously go on the kindred changes which social
progress works in the Fauna of the region. "We have the
diminution or destruction of some or many injurious species.
We have the fostering of useful species, which has the double
effect of increasing their numbers and making their qualities
more advantageous to society. Further, we have the natural-
ization of desirable species brought from abroad.

It needs but to think of the immense contrast between a
wolf-haunted forest or a boggy moor peopled with wild
birds, and the fields covered with crops and flocks which
eventually occupy the same area, to be reminded that the
environment, inorganic and organic, of a society, under-

* It is worth noting that drainage increases what we may figuratively call
terrestrial respiration ; and that on terrestrial respiration the lives of land-
plants, and therefore of land-animals, and therefore of men, depend. Every
change of atmospheric pressure produces exits or entrances of the air into all
the interstices of the soil. The depth to which these irregular inspirations
and expirations reaoh, is increased by freedom from water ; ainoe interstice*
occupied by water cannot be filled by air. Thus those chemical decomposi-
tions effected by the air that is renewed with every fall and rise of the baro-
meter, are extended to a greater depth by drainage} and the plant-Ufa
depending on such decompositions is facilitated.

THE FACTORS OF SOCIAL PHENOMENA, 11

goes a continuous transformation during the progress of the
society; and that this transformation becomes an all-
important secondary factor in social evolution.

§ 9. Another secondary factor is the increasing size of
the social aggregate, accompanied, generally, by increasing
density.

Apart from social changes otherwise produced, there are
social changes produced by simple growth. Mass is both a
condition to, and a result of, organization. It is clear that
heterogeneity of structure is made possible only by multi-
plicity of units. Division of labour cannot be carried far
where there are but few to divide the labour among them.
Complex co-operations, governmental and industrial, are
impossible without a population large enough to supply
many kinds and gradations of agents. And sundry de-
veloped forms of activity, both predatory and peaceful, are
made practicable only by the power which large masses of
men furnish*

Hence, then, a derivative factor which, like the rest, is at
once a consequence and a cause of social progress, is social
growth. Other factors co-operate to produce this ; and this
joins other factors in working further changes.

•

§ 10. Among derived factors we may next note the
reciprocal influence of the society and its units — the influ-
ence of the whole on the parts, and of the parts on the whole.

As soon as a combination of men acquires permanence,
there begin actions and reactions between the community
and each member of it, such that either affects the other in
nature. The control exercised by the aggregate over its
units, tends ever to mould their activities and sentiments
and ideas into congruity with social requirements ; and these
activities, sentiments, and ideas, in so far as they are changed
by changing circumstances, tend to re-mould the society into
congruity with themselves.

12 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

In addition, therefore, to the original nature of the
individuals and the original nature of the society they form,
we have to take into account the induced natures of the two.
Eventually, mutual modification becomes a potent cause of
transformation in both.

§11. Yet a further derivative factor of extreme import-
ance remains. I mean the influence of the super-organic
environment — the action and reaction between a society and
neighbouring societies.

While there exist only small, wandering, unorganized
hordes, the conflicts of these with one another work no
permanent changes of arrangement in them. But when
there have arisen the definite chieftainships which frequent
conflicts tend to initiate, and especially when the conflicts
have ended in subjugations, there arise the rudiments of
political organization ; and, as at first, so afterwards, the wars
of societies with one another have all-important effects in
developing social structures, or rather, certain of them.
For I may here, in passing, indicate the truth to be hereafter
exhibited in full, that while the industrial organization of a
society is mainly determined by its inorganic and organic
environments, its governmental organization is mainly deter-
mined by its super-organic environment — by the actions of
those adjacent societies with which it carries on the struggle
for existence.

§ 12. There remains in the group of derived factors one
more, the potency of which can scarcely be over-estimated.
I mean that accumulation of super-organic products which
we commonly distinguish as artificial, but which, philoso-
phically considered, are no less natural than all other pro-
ducts of evolution. There are several orders of these.

First come the material appliances, which, beginning
with roughly-chipped flints, end in the complex automatic
tools of an engine-factory driven by steam; which from

THE FACTOBS OP SOCIAL PHENOMENA. 13

boomerangs rise to eighty-ton guns; which from huts of
branches and grass grow to cities with their palaces and
cathedrals. Then we have language, able at first

only to eke out gestures in communicating simple ideas, but
eventually becoming capable of expressing involved concep-
tions with precision. While from that stage in which it
conveys thoughts only by sounds to one or a few persons,
we pass through picture-writing up to steam-printing;
multiplying indefinitely the numbers communicated with,
and making accessible in voluminous literatures the ideas
and feelings of countless men in various places and
times. Concomitantly there goes on the develop-

ment of knowledge, ending in science. Numeration on the
fingers grows into far-reaching mathematics ; observation of
the moon's changes leads in time to a theory of the solar
system ; and there successively arise sciences of which not
even the germs could at first be detected. Mean-

while the once few and simple customs, becoming more
numerous, definite, and fixed, end in systems of laws. Eude
superstitions initiate elaborate mythologies, theologies, cos-
mogonies. Opinion getting embodied in creeds, gets em-
bodied, too, in accepted codes of ceremony and conduct, and
in established social sentiments. And then there

slowly evolve also the products we call Aesthetic ; which of
themselves form a highly-complex group. From necklaces
of fishbones we advance to dresses elaborate, gorgeous, and
infinitely varied ; out of discordant war-chants come sympho-
nies and operas ; cairns develop into magnificent temples ; in
place of caves with rude markings there arise at length
galleries of paintings ; and the recital of a chiefs deeds with
mimetic accompaniment gives origin to epics, dramas, lyrics,
and the vast mass of poetry, fiction, biography, and history.

These various orders of super-organic products, each de-
veloping within itself new genera and species while growing
into a larger whole, and each acting on the otber orders
while reacted on by them, constitute an immensely- volumi-

14 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

nous, immensely-complicated, and immensely-powerful set of
influences. During social evolution they are ever modifying
individuals and modifying society, while being modified by
both. They gradually form what we may consider either as
a non-vital part of the society itself, or else as a secondary
environment, which eventually becomes more important than
the primary environments — so much more important that
there arises the possibility of carrying on a high kind of
social life under inorganic and organic conditions which
originally would have prevented it.

§ 13. Such are the factors in outline. Even when pre-
sented under this most general form, the combination of
them is seen to be of an involved kind.

Recognizing the primary truth that social phenomena
depend in part on the natures of the individuals and in part
on the forces the individuals are subject to, we see that these
two fundamentally-distinct sets of factors, with which social
changes commence, give origin to other sets as social changes
advance. The pre-established environing influences, inor-
ganic and organic, which are at first almost unalterable,
become more and more altered by the actions of the evolving
society. Simple growth of population brings into play fresh
causes of transformation that are increasingly important.
The influences which the society exerts on the natures of
its units, and those which the units exert on the nature of
the society, incessantly co-operate in creating new elements.
As societies progress in size and structure, they work on one
another, now by their war-straggles and now by their indus-
trial intercourse, profound metamorphoses. And the ever-
accumulating, ever - complicating super- organic products,
material and mental, constitute a further set of factors which
become more and more influential causes of change. So that,
involved as the factors are at the beginning, each step in ad-
vance increases the involution, by adding factors which them-
selves grow more complex while they grow more powerful

PART I

THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

B

\

THE FACTORS OF SOCIAL PHENOMENA. 15

Bat now having glanced at the factors of all orders,
original and derived, we must neglect for the present those
which are derived, and attend exclusively, or almost exclu-
sively, to those which are original The Data of Sociology,
here to be dealt with, we must, as far as possible, restrict to
those primary data common to social phenomena in general,
and most readily distinguished in the simplest societies.
Adhering to the broad division made at the outset between
the extrinsic and intrinsic co-operating causes, we will con-
sider first the extrinsic

CHAPTER m.

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTOR&

§ 14. A complete outline of the original external factors
implies a knowledge of the past which we have not got, and
are not likely to get. Now that geologists and archaeologists
are uniting to prove that human existence goes back to a
time so remote that " pre-historic " scarcely expresses it,
we are shown that the effects of external conditions on
social evolution cannot be fully traced Remembering that
the 20,000 years, or so, during which man has lived in the
Nile-valley, is made to seem a relatively-small period by the
evidence that he coexisted with the extinct mammals of the
drift — remembering that England had human inhabitants at
an epoch which good judges think was glacial — remembering
that in America, along with the bones of a Mastodon im-
bedded in the alluvium of the Bourbense, were found arrow-
heads and other traces of the savages who had killed this
member of an order no longer represented in that part of the
world— remembering that, judging from the evidence as
interpreted by Professor Huxley, those vast subsidences
which changed a continent into the Eastern Archipelago,
took place after the Negro-race was established as a distinct
variety of man ; we must infer that it is hopeless to trace
back the external factors of social phenomena to anything
like their first forms.

One important truth only, implied by the evidence thus

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS. 17

glanced at, must be noted. Geological changes and meteoro-
logical changes, as well as the consequent changes of Floras
and Faunas, must have been causing, over all parts of the
Earth, perpetual emigrations and immigrations. From each
locality made less habitable by increasing inclemency, a wave
of diffusion must have spread ; into each locality made more
favourable to human existence by amelioration of climate, or
increase of indigenous food, or both, a wave of concentration
must have been set up ; and by great geological changes,
here sinking areas of land and there raising areas, other re-
distributions of mankind must have been produced. Accu-
mulating facts show that these enforced ebbings and Sowings
have, in some localities, and probably in most, taken place
time after time. And such waves of emigration and immi-
gration must have been ever bringing the dispersed groups of
the race into contact with conditions more or less new.

Carrying with us this conception of the way in which
the external factors, original in the widest sense, have co-
operated throughout all past time, we must limit our atten-
tion to such effects of them as we have now before us.

$ 15. Life in general is possible only between certain limits
of temperature ; and life of the higher kinds is possible only
within a comparatively-narrow range of temperature, main-
tained artificially if not naturally. Hence social life, pre-
supposing as it does not only human life but that life vegetal
and animal on which human life depends, is restricted by
certain extremes of cold and heat

Cold, though great, does not rigorously exclude warm-
blooded creatures, if the locality supplies adequate means of
generating heat The arctic regions contain various marine
and terrestrial mammals, large and small ; but the existence
of these depends, directly or indirectly, on the existence of
the inferior marine creatures, vertebrate and invertebrate,
which would cease to live there did not the warm currents
from the tropics check the formation of ice. Hence such

c

IS THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

human life as we find in the far north, dependent as it is
mainly on the life of these mammals, is also remotely de-
pendent on the same source of heat. But where, as
in such places, the temperature which man's vital functions
require can be maintained with difficulty, social evolution is
not possible. There can be neither a sufficient surplus-power
in each individual nor a sufficient number of individuals.
Not only are the energies of an Esquimaux expended mainly
in guarding against loss of heat, but his bodily functions are
greatly modified to the same end Without fuel, and, indeed,
unable to burn within his snow-hut anything more than an
oil-lamp, lest the walls should melt, he has to keep up that
warmth which even his thick fur-dress fails to retain, by
devouring vast quantities of blubber and oil ; and his diges-
tive system, heavily taxed in providing the wherewith to
meet excessive loss by radiation, supplies less material for
other vital purposes. This great physiological cost of indi-
vidual life, indirectly checking the multiplication of indivi-
duals, arrests social evolution. A kindred relation
of cause and effect is shown us in the Southern hemisphere
by the still-more-miserable Fuegians. Living nearly un-
clothed in a region of storms, which their wretched dwellings
of sticks and grass do not exclude, and having little food but
fish and mollusks, these beings, described as scarcely human
in appearance, have such difficulty in preserving the vital
balance in face of the rapid escape of heat, that the surplus
for individual development is narrowly restricted, and, con-
sequently, the surplus for producing and rearing new indivi-
duals. Hence the numbers remain too small for exhibiting
anything beyond incipient social existence.

Though, in some tropical regions, an opposite extreme of
temperature so far impedes the vital actions as to impede
social development, yet hindrance from this cause seems
exceptional and relatively unimportant. Life in general, and
mammalian life along with it, is great in quantity as well as
individually high, in localities that are among the hottest

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS. ID

The silence of the forests daring the noontide glare in such
localities, does, indeed, furnish evidence of enervation ; bat
in cooler parts of the twenty-four hours there is a compen-
sating energy. And if varieties of the human race adapted
to these localities, show, in comparison with ourselves, some
indolence, this does not seem greater than, or even equal to,
the indolence of the primitive man in temperate cli-
mates. Contemplated in the mass, facts do not
countenance the current idea that great heat hinders progress.
All the earliest recorded civilizations belonged to regions
which, if not tropical, almost equal the tropics in height of
temperature. India and Southern China, as still existing,
show us great social evolutions within the tropics. The vast
architectural remains of Java and of Cambodia yield proofs
of other tropical civilizations in the East ; while the extinct
societies of Central America, Mexico, and Peru, need but be
named to make it manifest that in the New World also, there
were in past times great advances in hot regions. It
is thus, too, if we compare societies of ruder types that have
developed in warm climates, with allied societies belonging
to colder climates. Tahiti, the Tonga Islands, and the Sand-
wich Islands, are within the tropics ; and in them, when first
discovered, there had been reached stages of evolution which
were remarkable considering the absence of metals.

I do not ignore the fact that in recent times societies have
evolved most, both in size and complexity, in temperate
regions. I simply join with this the fact that the first
considerable societies arose, and the primary stages of social
development were reached, in hot climates. The truth would
seem to be that the earlier phases of progress had to be
passed through where the resistances ottered by inorganic
conditions were least; that when the arts of life had been
advanced, it became possible for societies to develop in
regions where the resistances were greater ; and that further
developments in the arts of life, with the further discipline
in co-operation accompanying them, enabled subsequent

c 2

'20 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

societies to take root and grow in regions which, by climatic
and other conditions, offered relatively-great resistances.

We must therefore say that solar radiation, being the
source of those forces by which life, vegetal and animal, is
carried on; and being, by implication, the source of the
forces displayed in human life, and consequently in social
life ; it results that there can be no considerable social evolu-
tion on tracts of the Earth's surface where solar radiation is
very feeble. Though, contrariwise, there is on some tracts a
solar radiation in excess of the degree most favourable to vital
actions ; yet the consequent hindrance to social evolution is
relatively small. Further, we conclude that an abundant
supply of light and heat is especially requisite during those
first stages of progress in which social vitality is smalL

§ 16. Passing over such traits of climate as variability

and equability, whether diurnal, annual, or irregular, all of

which have their effects on human activities, and therefore

. on social phenomena, I will name one other climatic trait

. that appears to be an important factor. I refer to the

quality of the air in respect of dryness or moisture.

Either extreme brings indirect impediments to civilization,
which we may note before observing the direct effects.
That great dryness of the air, causing a parched surface and
a scanty vegetation, negatives the multiplication needed for
advanced social life, is a familiar fact. And it is a fact,
though not a familiar one, that extreme humidity, especially
when joined with great heat, may raise unexpected obstacles
to progress ; as, for example, in parts of East Africa, where
" the springs of powder-flasks exposed to the damp snap like
toasted quills ; . . . paper, becoming soft and soppy by
. the loss of glazing, acts as a blotter ; . . . metals are
ever rusty; . . . and gunpowder, if not kept from the
air, refuses to ignite."

But it is the direct effects of different hygrometric states,
which are most noteworthy — the effects on the vital processes,

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS. 21 '

and, therefore, on the individual activities, and, through
them, on the social activities. Bodily functions are facilitated
by atmospheric conditions which make evaporation from the
skin and lungs rapid. That weak persons, whose variations
of health furnish good tests, are worse when the air is
surcharged with water, and are better when the weather is
fine ; and that commonly such persons are enervated by
residence in moist localities but invigorated by residence in
dry ones, are facts generally recognized. And this relation
of cause and effect, manifest in individuals, doubtless holds in
races. Throughout temperate regions, differences of constitu-
tional activity due to differences of atmospheric humidity,
are less traceable than in torrid regions: .the reason being
that all the inhabitants are subject to a tolerably quick
escape of water from their surfaces ; since the air, though
well charged with water, will take up more when its
temperature, previously low, is raised by contact with the
body. But it is otherwise in tropical regions where the body
and the air bathing it differ much less in temperature ; and
where, indeed, the air is sometimes higher in temperature
than the body. Here the rate of evaporation depends almost
wholly on the quantity of surrounding vapour. If the air is
hot and moist, the escape of water through the skin and
lungs is greatly hindered ; while it is greatly facilitated if the
air is hot and dry. Hence in the torrid zone, we may expect
constitutional differences between the inhabitants of low
steaming tracts and the inhabitants of tracts parched with
heat Needful as are cutaneous and pulmonary evaporation
for maintaining the movement of fluids through the tissues
and thus furthering molecular changes, it is to be inferred
that, other things equal, there will be more bodily activity in
the people of hot and dry localities than in the people of hot
and humid localities.

The evidence justifies this inference. The earliest-recorded
civilization grew up in a hot and dry region — Egypt ; and in
hot and dry regions also arose the Babylonian, Assprian, and V

22 TUB DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Phoenician civilizations. But the facts when stated in terms
of nations are far less striking than when stated in terms of
races. On glancing over a general rain-map, there will be
seen an almost-continuous area marked " rainless district/'
extending across North Africa, Arabia, Persia, and on through
Thibet into Mongolia ; and from within, or from the borders
of, this district, have come all the conquering races of the
Old World. We have the Tartar race, which, passing the
Southern mountain-boundary of this rainless district, peopled
China and the regions between it and India — thrusting the
aborigines of these areas into the hilly tracts ; and which has
sent successive waves of invaders not into these regions only,
but into the West. We have the Aryan race, overspreading
India and making its way through Europe. We have the
Semitic race, becoming dominant in North Africa, and,
spurred on by Mahommedan fanaticism, subduing parts of
Europe. That is to say, besides the Egyptian race, which
became powerful in the hot and dry valley of the Nile, we
have three races widely unlike in type, which, from different
parts of the rainless district have spread over regions
relatively humid. Original superiority of type was

not the common trait of these peoples : the Tartar type is
inferior, as was the Egyptian. But the common trait, as
proved by subjugation of other peoples, was energy. And
when we see that this common trait in kinds of men other-
wise unlike, had for its concomitant their long-continued
subjection to these special climatic conditions — when we find,
farther, that from the region characterized by these conditions,
the earlier waves of conqueriug emigrants, losing in moister
countries their ancestral energy, were over-run by later waves
of the same kind of men, or of other kinds, coming from this
region ; we get strong reason for inferring a relation between
constitutional vigour and the presence of an air which, by its
warmth and dryness, facilitates the vital actions. A

striking verification is at hand. The rain-map of the New
World shows that the largest of the parts distinguished as

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS. 23

almost rainless, is that Central-American and Mexican
region in which indigenous civilizations developed ; and that
the only other rainless district is that part of the ancient
Peruvian territory, in which the pre-Ynca civilization has
left its most conspicuous traces. Inductively, then, the
evidence justifies in a remarkable manner the physiological
deduction. Nor are there wanting minor verifica-

tions. Speaking of the varieties of negroes, Livingstone says
— " Heat alone does not produce blackness of skin, but heat
with moisture seems to insure the deepest hue"; and
Schweinfurth remarks on the relative blackness of the Denka
and other tribes living on the alluvial plains, and contrasts
them with "the less swarthy and more robust races who
inhabit the rocky hills of the interior": differences with
which there go differences of energy. But I note this fact for
the purpose of suggesting its probable connexion with the
fact that the lighter-skinned races are habitually the domi-
nant races. We see it to have been so in Egypt It was so
with the races spreading south from Central Asia. Traditions
imply that it was so in Central America and Peru. Speke
says: — " I have always found the lighter-coloured savages more
boisterous and warlike than those of a dingier hue." And if,
heat being the same, darkness of skin accompanies humidity
of the air, while lightness of skin accompanies dryness of the
air, then, in this habitual predominance of the fair varieties
of men, we find further evidence that constitutional activity,
and in so far social development, is favoured by a climate
conducing to rapid evaporation.

I do not mean that the energy thus resulting determines,
of itself, higher social development : this is neither implied
deductively nor shown inductively. But greater energy,
making easy the conquest of less active races and the usurpa-
tion of their richer and more varied habitats, also makes
possible a better utilization of such habitats.

§ 17. On passing from climate to surface, we have to note,

24 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

first, the effects of its configuration, as favouring or hindering
social integration.

That the habits of hunters or nomads may be changed into
those required for settled life, the surface occupied must be
one within which coercion is easy, and beyond which the
difficulties of existence are great. The unconquerableness of
mountain tribes, difficult to get at, has been in many times
and in many places exemplified. Instance the Illyrians, who
remained independent of the adjacent Greeks, gave trouble to
the Macedonians, and mostly recovered their independence
after the death of Alexander ; instance the Montenegrins ;
instance the Swiss; instance the people of the Caucasus.
The inhabitants of desert-tracts, as well as those of mountain-
tracts, are difficult to consolidate : facility of escape, joined
with ability to live in sterile regions, greatly hinder social
subordination. Within our own island, surfaces

otherwise widely unlike have similarly hindered political
integration, when their physical traits have made it difficult
to reach their occupants. The history of Wales shows us how,
within that mountainous district itself, subordination to one
ruler was hard to establish ; and still more how hard it was
to bring the whole under the central power : from the Old-
English period down to 1400, eight centuries of resistance
passed before the subjugation was complete, and a further
interval before the final incorporation with England. The
Fens, in the earliest times a haunt of marauders and of those
who escaped from established power, became, at the time of
the Conquest, the last refuge of the still-resisting English ;
who, for many years, maintained their freedom in this tract,
made almost inaccessible by morasses. The prolonged
independence of the Highland clans, who were subjugated
only after General Wade's roads put their refuges within
reach, yields a later proof. Conversely, social inte-

gration is easy within a territory which, while able to suppoit
a large population, affords facilities for coercing the units
of that population : especially if it is bounded by regions

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS. 25

offering little sustenance, or peopled by enemies, or both
Egypt fulfilled these conditions in a high degree. Govern-
mental force was unimpeded by physical obstacles within the.
occupied area; and escape from it into the adjacent desert
involved either starvation or robbery and enslavement by
wandering hordes. Then in small areas surrounded by the
sea, such as the Sandwich Islands, Tahiti, Tonga, Samoa,
where a barrier to flight is formed by a desert of water
instead of a desert of sand, the requirements are equally
well fulfilled. Thus we may figuratively say that social
integration is a process of welding, which can be effected only
when there are both pressure and difficulty in evading that
pressure. And here, indeed, we are reminded how,

in extreme cases, the nature of the surface permanently
determines the type of social life it bears. From the earliest
recorded times, arid tracts in the East have been peopled by
Semitic tribes having an adapted social type. The descrip-
tion given by Herodotus of the Scythian's mode of life
and social organization, is substantially the same as that
given of the Kalmucks by Pallas. Even were regions fitted
for nomads to have their inhabitants exterminated, they would
be re-peopled by refugees from neighbouring settled societies ;
who would similarly be compelled to wander, and would
similarly acquire fit forms of union. There is, indeed, a
modern instance in point : not exactly of a re-genesis of an
adapted social type, but of a genesis de novo. Since the
colonization of South America, some of the pampas have
become the homes of robber-tribes like Bedouins.

Another trait of the inhabited area to be noted as in-
fluential, is its degree of heterogeneity. Other things equal,
localities that are uniform in structure are unfavourable to
social progress. Leaving out for the present its effects on
the Flora and Fauna, sameness of surface implies absence of
varied inorganic materials, absence of varied experiences,
absence of varied habits, and, therefore, puts obstacles to in-
dustrial development and the arts of life. Neither Central

\

26 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Asia, nor Central Africa, nor the central region of either

American continent, has been the seat of an indigenous

civilization of any height Regions like the Russian steppes,

however possible it may be to carry into them civilization

elsewhere developed, are regions within which civilization is

not likely to be initiated ; because the differentiating agencies

are insufficient. When quite otherwise caused, uniformity

of habitat has still the like effect. As Professor Dana asks

respecting a coral-island : —

" How many of the various arte of civilized life could exist in a land
where shells are the only cutting instruments . . . fresh water
barely enough for household purposes, — no streams, nor mountains, nor
hills? How much of the poetry and literature of Europe would be
intelligible to persons whose ideas had expanded only to the limits of a
coral-island, who had never conceived of a surface of land above half a
mile in breadth— of a slope higher than a beach, or of a change in
seasons beyond a variation in the prevalence of rain 1 "

Contrariwise, th? influences of geological and geographical
heterogeneity in furthering social development, are con-
spicuous. Though, considered absolutely, the Nile-valley is
not physically multiform, yet it is multiform in comparison
with surrounding tracts ; and it presents that which seems
the most constant antecedent to civilization — the juxtaposi-
tion of land and water. Though the Babylonians and
Assyrians had habitats that were not specially varied, yet
they were more varied than the riverless regions lying East
and West. The strip of territory in which the Phoenician
society arose, had a relatively -extensive coast; many rivers
furnishing at their mouths sites for the chief cities ; plains
and valleys running inland, with hills between them and
mountains beyond thenu Still more does heterogeneity dis-
tinguish the area in which the Greek society evolved : it is
varied in its multitudinous and complex distributions of land
and sea, in its contour of surface, in its soil. " No part of
Europe — perhaps it would not be too much to say no part of
the world — presents so great a variety of natural features

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS. 27

within the same area as Greece." The Greeks themselves,
indeed, observed the effects of local circumstances in so far
as unlikeness between coast and interior goes. As says
Mr. Grote : —

•The ancient philosophers and legislators were deeply impressed
with the contrast between an inland and a maritime city : in the
former simplicity and uniformity of life, tenacity of ancient habits and
dislike of what is new and foreign, great force of exclusive sympathy
and narrow range both of objects and ideas ; in the latter, variety and
novelty of sensations, expansive imagination, toleration and occasional
preference for extraneous customs, greater activity of the individual
and corresponding mutability of the state."

Though the differences here described are mainly due to
absence and presence of foreign intercourse ; yet, since this
itself is dependent on the local relations of land and sea,
these relations must be recognized as primary causes of
the differences. Just observing that in Italy likewise, civi-
lization found a seat of considerable complexity, geological
and geographical, we may pass to the New World, where we
see the same thing. Central America, which was the source
of its indigenous civilizations, is characterized by compara-
tive multiformity. So, too, with Mexico and with Peru.
The Mexican tableland, surrounded by mountains, contained
many lakes: that of Tezcuco, with its islands and shores,
being the seat of Government ; and through Peru, varied in
surface, the Ynca-power spread from the mountainous islands
of the large, irregular, elevated lake, Titicaca.

How soil affects progress remains to be observed. The
belief that easy obtainment of food is unfavourable to social
evolution, while not without an element of truth, is by no
means true as currently accepted. The semi-civilized peoples
of the Pacific — the Sandwich Islanders, Tahitians, Tongans,
Samoans, Fijians — show us considerable advances made in
places where great productiveness renders life unlaboriou«.
In Sumatra, where rice yields 80 to 140 fold, and in Mada-
gascar, where it yields 50 to 100 fold, social development

28 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

has not been insignificant. Kaffirs, inhabiting a tract having
rich and extensive pasturage, contrast favourably, both in-
dividually and socially, with neighbouring races occupying
regions that are relatively unproductive ; and those parts of
Central Africa in which the indigenes have made most social
progress, as Ashantee and Dahomey, have luxuriant vegeta-
tions. Indeed, if we call to mind the Nile-valley, and the
exceptionally-fertilizing process it is subject to, we see that
the most ancient social development known to us, began
in a region which, fulfilling other requirements, was also
characterized by great natural productiveness.

And here, with respect to fertility, we may recognize a
truth allied to that which we recognized in respect to cli-
mate ; namely, that the earlier stages of social evolution are
possible only where the resistances to be overcome are small.
As those arts of life by which loss of heat is prevented, must
be considerably advanced before relatively-inclement regions
can be well peopled ; so, the agricultural arts must be con-
siderably advanced before the less fertile tracts can support
populations large enough for civilization. And since arts of
every kind develop only as societies progress in size and
structure, it follows that there must be societies having
habitats where abundant food can be procured by inferior
arts, before there can arise the arts required for dealing with
less productive habitats. While yet low and feeble, societies
can survive only where the circumstances are least trying.
The ability to survive where circumstances are more trying
con be possessed only by the higher and stronger societies
descending from these ; and inheriting their acquired organi-
zation, appliances, and knowledge.

It should be added that variety of soil is a factor of im-
portance; since this helps to cause that multiplicity of
vegetal products which largely aids social progress. In
sandy Damara-land, where four kinds of mimosas exclude
nearly every other kind of tree or bush, it is clear that,
apart from further obstacles to progress, paucity of materials

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS. 20

must be a great one. But here we verge upon another order
of factors.

§ 18. The character of its Flora affects in a variety of
ways the fitness of a habitat for supporting a society. At
the chief of these we must glance.

Some of the Esquimaux have no wood at all; while
others have only that which comes to them as ocean-drift
By using snow or ice to build their houses, and by the shifts
they are put to in. making cups of seal-skin, fishing-lines
and nets of whalebone, and even bows of bone or horn,
these people show us how greatly advance in the arts of life
is hindered by lack of fit vegetal products. With this Arctic
race, too, as also with the nearly Antarctic Fuegians, we see
that the absence or extreme scarcity of useful plants is an
insurmountable impediment to social progress. Evidence
better than that furnished by these regions (where extreme
cold is a coexisting hindrance) comes from Australia ; where,
in a climate that is on the whole favourable, the paucity of
plants available for the purposes of life has been a part-
cause of continued arrest at the lowest stage of barbarism.
Large tracts of it, supporting but one inhabitant to sixty
square miles, admit of no approach to that populousness
which is a needful antecedent to civilization.

Conversely, after observing how growth of population,
making social advance possible, is furthered by abundance of
vegetal products, we may observe how variety of vegetal
products conduces to the same effect Not only in the
cases of the slightly-developed societies occupying regions
covered by a heterogeneous Flora, do we see that dependence
on many kinds of roots, fruits, cereals, etc., is a safeguard
against the famines caused by failure of any single crop ;
but we see that the materials furnished by a heterogeneous
Flora, make possible a multiplication of appliances, a conse-
quent advance of the arts, and an accompanying develop-
ment of skill and intelligence. The Tahitians have on their

30 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

islands, fit woods for the frameworks and roofs of houses,
with palm-leaves for thatch ; there are plants yielding fibres
out of which to twist cords, fishing lines, matting, etc. ; the
tapa-bark, duly prepared, furnishes a cloth for their various
articles of dress ; they have cocoa-nuts for cups, eta, materials
for baskets, sieves, and various domestic implements ; they
have plants giving them scents for their unguents, flowers
for their wreaths and necklaces ; they have dyes for stamp-
ing patterns on their dresses — all besides the various foods,
bread-fruit, taro, yams, sweet-potatoes, arrow-root, fern-root,
cocoa-nuts, plantains, bananas, jambo, ti-root, sugar-cane,
etc.: enabling them to produce numerous made dishes. And
the utilization of all these materials implies a culture which
in various ways furthers social advance. Kindred results
from like causes have arisen among an adjacent people,
widely unlike in character and political organization. In a
habitat characterized by a like variety of vegetal products,
those ferocious cannibals the Fijians, have developed their
arts to a degree comparable with that of the Tahitians, and
have a division of labour and a commercial organization that
are even superior. Among the thousand species of indigenous
plants in the Fiji Islands, there are such as furnish materials
for all purposes, from the building of war-canoes carrying
S00 men down to the making of dyes and perfumes. It may,
indeed, be urged that the New Zealanders, exhibiting a social
development akin to that reached in Tahiti and Fiji, had a
habitat of which the indigenous Flora was not varied. But
the reply is that both by their language and their mythology,
the New Zealanders are shown to have separated from other
Malayo-Polynesians after the arts of life had been con-
siderably advanced ; and that they brought these arts (as
well as some cultivated plants) to a region which, though
poor in edible plants, supplied in abundance plants other-
wise useful.

As above hinted, mere luxuriance of vegetation is in some
cases a hindrance to progress. Even that inclement region

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS. 31

inhabited by the Fuegians, is, strange to say, made worse by
the dense growth of useless underwood which clothes the
rocky hills. Living though they do under conditions other-
wise so different, the Andamanese, too, are restricted to the
borders of the sea, by the impenetrable thickets which cover
the land. Indeed various equatorial regions, made almost
useless even to the semi-civilized by jungle and tangled
forest, were utterly useless to the aborigines, who had no
tools for clearing the ground. The primitive man, possessing
rude stone implements only, found but few parts of the
Earth's surface which, neither too barren nor bearing too
luxuriant a vegetation, were available: so again reminding
us that rudimentary societies are at the mercy of environing
conditions.

§ 19. There remains to be treated the Fauna of the region
inhabited. Evidently this affects greatly both the degree of
social growth and the type of that growth.

The presence or absence of wild animals fit for food, influ-
ential as it is in determining the kind of individual life, is
therefore influential in determining the kind of social organi-
zation. Where, as in North America, there existed game
enough to support the aboriginal races, hunting continued
the dominant activity ; and a partially-nomadic habit being
entailed by migrations after game, there was a persistent
impediment to agriculture, to increase of population, and
to industrial development We have but to consider the
antithetical case of the various Polynesian races, and to
observe how, in the absence of a considerable land- Fauna,
they have been forced into agriculture with its concomitant
settled life, larger population, and advanced arts, to see how
great an effect the kind and amount of utilizable animal-life
has on civilization. When we glance at that pas-

toral type of society which, still existing, has played in past
times an important part in human progress, we again see that
over wide regions the indigenous Fauna has been chiefly

32 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

influential in fixing the form of social union. On the one
hand, in the absence of herbivores admitting of domestication
—horses, camels, oxen, sheep, goats — the pastoral life fol-
lowed by the three great conquering races in their original
habitats, would have been impossible; and, on the other
hand, this kind of life was inconsistent with that formation
of larger settled unions which is needed for the higher social
relations. On recalling the cases of the Laplanders with
their reindeer and dogs, the Tartars with their horsea and
cattle, and the South Americans with their llamas and guinea-
pigs, it becomes obvious, too, that in various cases this nature
of the Fauna, joined with that of the surface, still continues
to be a cause of arrest at a certain stage of evolution.

While the Fauna as containing an abundance or scarcity
of creatures useful to man is an important factor, it is also
an important factor as containing an abundance or scarcity
of injurious creatures. The presence of the larger carnivores
is, in some places, a serious impediment to social life ; as in
Sumatra, where villages are not uncommonly depopulated by
tigers ; as in India, where " a single tigress caused the destruc-
tion of 13 villages, and 250 square miles of country were
thrown out of cultivation/' and where " in 1869 one tigress
killed 127 people, and stopped a public road for many weeks."
Indeed we need but recall the evils once suffered in England
from wolves, and those still suffered in some parts of
Europe, to see that freedom to carry on out-door occupations
and intercourse, which is among the conditions to social
advance, may be hindered by predatory animals. Nor must
we forget how greatly agriculture is occasionally interfered
with by reptiles; as, again, in India, where over 25,000
persons die of snake-bite annually. To which evils directly
inflicted by the higher animals, must be added the indirect
evils which they join insects in inflicting, by destroying
crops. Sometimes injuries of this last kind considerably
affect the mode of individual life and consequently of social
life ; as in Kaffirland, where crops are subject to great depre-

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTORS, 33

dations from mammals, birds, and insects, and where the
transformation of the pastoral state into a higher state is thus
discouraged; or as in the Bechuana-country, which, while
* peopled with countless herds of game, is sometimes devas-
tated by swarms of locusts." Clearly, where the industrial
tendencies are feeble, uncertainty in getting a return for
labour must hinder the development of them, and cause rever-
sion to older modes of life, if these can still be pursued.

Many other mischiefs, caused especially by insects, seri-
ously interfere with social progress. Even familiar expe-
riences in Scotland, where the midges sometimes drive one
indoors, show how greatly "the plague of flies" must, in
tropical regions, impede outdoor labour. Where, as on the
Orinoco, the morning salutation is — " How are we to-day for
the mosquitos ? " and where the torment is such that a priest
could not believe Humboldt voluntarily submitted to it
n&erely that he might see the country, the desire for relief
must often out-balance the already-feeble motive to work.
Even the effects of flies on cattle indirectly modify social
life ; as among the Kirghiz, who, in May, when the steppes
are covered with rich pasture, are obliged by the swarms of
flies to take their herds to the mountains ; or as in Africa,
where the tsetse negatives the pastoral occupation in some
localities. And then, in other cases, great discouragement
results from the termites, which, in parts of East Africa, con*
same dress, furniture, beds, eta " A man may be rich to-day
and poor to-morrow, from the ravages of the white ants,"
said a Portuguese merchant to Livingstone. Nor is this all.
Humboldt remarks that where the termites destroy all docu-
ments, there can be no advanced civilization.

Thus there is a close relation between the type of social
life indigenous in a locality, and the character of the in-
digenous Fauna. The presence or absence of useful species,
and the presence or absence of injurious species, have their
favouring and hindering effects. And there is not only so
produced a furtherance or retardation of social progress,

n

34 THE DATA OF 8QCIOLOGT.

generally considered, but there is produced more or less
speciality in the structures and activities of the community.

§ 20. To describe fully these original external factors is
out of the question. An approximately-coimplete account of
the classes characterized above, would he a work of years ;
and there would have to be added many environing con-
ditions not yet indicated.

Effects of differences in degree and distribution of light, as
illustrated by the domesticity and culture which the Arctic
night causes among the Icelanders, would have to be treated ;
as also the minor effects due to greater or less brilliancy of
ordinary daylight in sunny and cloudy climates on the
mental states, and therefore on the actions, of the inha*
bitants. The familiar fact that habitual fineness of weather
and habitual inclemency, lead respectively to out-door social
intercourse and in-door family-life, and so influence the cha-
racters of citizens, would have to be taken into account. So,
too, would the modifications of ideas and feelings wrought by
imposing meteorologic and geologic phenomena. And beyond
the effects, made much of by Mr. Buckle, which these produce
on men's imaginations, and consequently on their behaviour,
there would have to be noted their effects of other orders : as,
for instance, those which frequent earthquakes have on the
type of architecture — causing a preference for houses that
are low and slight; and so modifying both the domestic
arrangements and the aesthetic culture. Again, the character
of the fuel which a locality yields has consequences that
ramify in various directions; as we see in the contrast
between our own coal-burning London, with its blackened
gloomy streets, and the wood-burning cities of the continent,
where general lightness and bright colours induce a different
state of feeling having different results. How the mineralogy
of a region acts, scarcely needs pointing out. Entire absence
of metals may cause local persistence of the stone-age ; pre-
sence of copper may initiate advance ; presence or proximity

ORIGINAL EXTERNAL FACTOBS. 35

of tin, rendering bronze possible, may cause a further step ;
and if there are iron-ores, a still farther step may presently
be taken. So, too, the sapply or lack of lime for mortar,
affects the sizes and types of buildings, private and public ;
and thus influences domestic and social habits, as well as art-
progress. Even down to such a minor peculiarity as the
presence of hot springs, which in ancient Central America
initiated a local manufacture of pottery, there would have to
be traced the influence of each physical condition in deter-
mining the prevailing industry, and therefore, in part, the
social organization.

Bat a detailed account of the original external factors,
whether of the more important kinds outlined in the pre-
ceding pages or of the less important kinds just exemplified,
pertains to Special Sociology. Any one who, carrying with
him the general principles of the science, undertook to inter-
pret the evolution of each society, would have to describe
completely these many local causes in their various kinds
and degrees. Such an undertaking must be left for the
sociologists of the future.

§ 21. Here my purpose has been to give general ideas of
the original external factors, in their different classes and
Orders; so as to impress on the reader the truth, barely
enunciated in the preceding chapter, that the characters of
the environment co-operate with the characters of human
beings in determining social phenomena.

One result of enumerating these original external factors
and observing the parts they play, has been that of bringing
into view the fact, that the earlier stages of social evolution
are far more dependent on local conditions than the later
stages. Though societies such as we are now most familiar
with, highly organized, rich in appliances, advanced in know-
ledge, can, by the help of various artifices, thrive in un-
favourable habitats ; yet feeble, unorganized societies cannot
do so. They are at the mercy of their surroundings.

i> 2

36 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Moreover we thus find answers to the questions sometimes
raised in opposition to the doctrine of social evolution — How
does it happen that so many tribes of savages have made no
manifest progress during the long period over which human
records extend? And if it is true that the human race
existed during the later geologic periods, why, for 100,000
years or more, did no traceable civilization result ? To these
questions, I say, adequate replies are furnished. When,
glancing over the classes and orders of original external
factors above set down, we observe how rare is that combina-
tion of favourable ones joined with absence of unfavourable
ones, by which alone the germs of societies can be fostered —
when we remember that in proportion as the appliances are
few and rude, the knowledge small, and the co-operation
feeble, the establishment of any improvement in face of
surrounding difficulties must take a long time — when we
remember that this helplessness of primitive social groups
left them exposed to each adverse change, and so caused
repeated losses of such advances as were made ; it becomes
easy to understand why, for an enormous period, no consider-
able societies were evolved.

But now having made this general survey of the original
external factors, and drawn these general inferences, we may
leave all detailed consideration of them as not further concern-
ing us. For in dealing with the Principles of Sociology, we
have to deal with facts of structure and function displayed
by societies in general, dissociated, so far as may be, from
special facts due to special circumstances. Henceforth we
shall occupy ourselves with those characters of societies
which depend mainly on the intrinsic natures of their units,
rather than with the characters determined by particular
extrinsic influences.

CHAPTER IV.

ORIGINAL INTERNAL FACTORS.

§ 22. As with the original external factors, so with the
original internal factors — an adequate account of them sup-
poses a far greater knowledge of the past than we can get.
On the one hand, from men's bones, and objects betraying
men's actions, found in recent strata and in cave-deposits,
dating back to periods since which there have been great
changes of climate and re-distributions of land and sea, we
must infer that the habitats of tribes have been ever under-
going modifications ; though what modifications we can but
vaguely guess. On the other hand, alterations of habitats
imply in the races subject to them adaptive changes of func-
tion and structure ; respecting most of wliich we can know
little more than their occurrence.

Such fragmentary evidence as we have does not warrant
definite conclusions respecting the ways and degrees in which /
men of the remote past differed from men now existing. ^
There are, indeed, remains which, taken alone, indicate
inferiority of type in ancestral races; The Neanderthal-skull
and others like it, with their enormous supra-orbital ridges so
simian in character, are among these. There is also the skull
lately found by Mr. Gillman, in a* mound on the Detroit
river, Michigan, and described by him as chimpanzee-like in
the largeness of the areas over which the temporal muscles
were inserted. But as this remarkable skull was found

38 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

along with others that were not remarkable, and as such
skulls as that from the cave in the Neanderthal are
not proved to be of more ancient date than skulls which
deviate little from common forms, no decisive inferences can
be drawn. A kindred, but perhaps a more positive,

statement, may be made respecting that compression of the
tibiae in certain ancient races, which is expressed by the
epithet " platycnemic." First pointed out by Prof. Busk and
Dr. Falconer, as characterizing the men who left their bones
in the caves of Gibraltar, this peculiarity, shortly afterwards
discovered by M. Broca in the remains of cave-men in
France, was observed afresh by Mr. Busk in remains from
caves in Denbighshire ; and more recently Mr. Gillman has
shown that it is a trait of tibiae found along with the rudest
stone-implements in mounds on the St. Claire riven Michigan.
As this trait is not known to distinguish any races now
living, while it existed in races which lived in localities so
far apart as Gibraltar* France, Wales, and North America, we
must infer that an ancient race, distributed over a wide area,
was in so far unlike race* which have survived.

Two general conclusions only seem warranted by the facts
at present known. The first is that in remote epochs there
were, as there are now,, varieties of men distinguished by
differences of osseous structure considerable in degree, and
probably by other differences ; and the second is, that some
traits of brutality and inferiority exhibited in certain of these
ancient varieties, have either disappeared or saw occur only
as unusual variations.

§ 23. So that about the original internal factors, taken in
that comprehensive sense which includes the traits of pre-
historic man, we can ascertain little that helps us. Still we
may fairly draw from the researches of geologists and archaeo-
logists the important general inferences that throughout
long-past periods, as since the commencement of history,
there has been going on a continuous differentiation of races,

ORIGINAL INTERNAL FACTORS. 39

a continuous over-running of the less powerful or less
adapted by the more powerful or more adapted, a driving of
inferior varieties into undesirable habitats, and, occasionally,
an extermination of inferior varieties.

And now, carrying with us this dim conception of primi-
tive man and his history, we must be content to give it what
definition we may, by studying those existing races of men
which, as judged by their Visible characters and their im-
plements, approach most nearly to primitive man. Instead
of including in one chapter all the classes and sub-classes of
traits to be set down, it will be most convenient to group
them into three chapters. We will take first the physical,
then the emotional, lastly the intellectual.

CHAPTEE V.

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — PHYSICAL.

§ 24. In face of the fact that the uncivilized races include
the Patagonians, who reach some six to seven feet in height,
while in Africa there still exist remnants of the barbarous
people referred to by Herodotus as pygmies, we cannot say
that there is any direct relation between social state and
stature. Among the North- American Indians there are
hunting races decidedly tall ; while, elsewhere, there . are
stunted hunting races, as the Bushmen. Of pastoral peoples,
too, some are short, like the Kirghiz, and some are well-
grown, like the Kaffirs. And there are kindred differences
among races of agricultural habits.

Still, the evidence taken in the mass implies some con-
nexion between barbarism and inferiority of size. In North
America the Chinooks and sundry neighbouring tribes, are
described as low in stature ; and the Shoshones are said to
be of "a diminutive stature." Of the South American races
it is asserted that the Guiana Indian is mostly much below
5 ft. 5 in. ; that the Araw&ks are seldom more than 5 ft 4 in. ;
and that the Guaranis rarely reach 5 ft. So, too, is it with
the uncivilized peoples of Northern Asia. The Kirghiz
average 5 ft 3 or 4 in. ; and the Kamschadales " are in
general of low stature." In Southern Asia it is the same.
One authority describes, generally, the Tamulian aborigines
of India as smaller than the Hindus. Another, writing of
the Hill-tribes, says of the Puttooas that the men do not

THK PBIMITTVE MAN — PHYSICAL 41

exceed 5 ft. 2 in., nor the women 4 ft. 4 in. Another esti-
mates the Lepchas as averaging about 5 ft. And the Juangs,
perhaps the most degraded of these tribes, are set down as,
males less than 5 ft., and women 4 ft 8 in. But this con-
nexion is most clearly seen on grouping the very lowest
races. Of the Fuegians we read that some tribes are "not
more than 5 ft high ; " of the Andamanese, that the men vary
from 4 ft. 10 in. to nearly 5 ft ; of the Yeddahs, that the
range is from 4 ft 1 in. to 5 ft 3 in. — the common height
being 4 ft 9 in. Again, the ordinary height of the Bushmen
is 4 ft 4£ in., or, according to Barrow, 4 ft. 6 in. for the
average man, and 4 ft. for the average woman. While their
allies, the Akka, are said by Schweinfurth to vary from 4 ft
1 in. to 4 ft 10 in. : the women, whom he did not see, being
presumably still smaller.

How far is this an original trait of inferior races, and how
far is it a trait superinduced by the unfavourable habitats
into which superior races have driven them ? The dwarfish-
ness of Esquimaux and Laplanders may be due partly, if not
wholly, to the great physiological cost of living entailed by
the rigorous climate they have to bear ; and it no more shows
the dwarfishness of primitive men than does the small size <?f
Shetland ponies show that primitive horses were small. So,
too, in the case of the Bushmen, who are wanderers in a
territory " of so barren and arid a character, that by far the
greater portion of it is not permanently habitable by any
class of human beings/' it is supposable that chronic innu-
trition has produced a lower standard of growth. Manifestly,
as the weaker were always thrust by the stronger into the
worst localities, there must ever have been a tendency to
make greater any original differences of stature and strength.
Hence the smallness of these most degraded men, may have
been original ; or it may have been acquired ; or it may have
been partly original and partly acquired. In one

case, however, I learn on good authority that the low stature
was most likely original. Facts do not justify the belief that

42 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

the Bushmen, the Akka, and kindred races found in Africa,
are dwarfed varieties of the Negro race; bat suggest the
belief that they are remnants of a race which the Negroes
dispossessed. And this conclusion, warranted by the physical
differences, is countenanced by general probability and by
analogy. Without making much of the rumoured dwarf-race
in the central parts of Madagascar, ca of that in the interior
of Borneo, it suffices to recall the Hill-tribes of India, which
are surviving groups of the indigenes islanded by the flood of
Aryans, or the tribes farther east, similarly islanded by the
invading Mongols, or the Mantras of the Malay-peninsula,
to see that thia process has probably occurred in Africa ; and
that these tribes of diminutive people are scattered fragments
of a people originally small, and not dwarfed by conditions.

Still, other evidence may be cited to show that we are not
justified in conceiving primitive man as decidedly less than
man of developed type. The Australians who, both indivi-
dually and socially, are very inferior, reach a moderate
stature; as did also the now-extinct TaBmaniana. Nor do
the bones of races which have disappeared, yield manifest
proof that pie-historic man was, on the average; much
smaller than historic man.

We shall probably be safe in concluding that With the
human race, as with other races, size is but one trait of higher
evolution, which may or may not coexist with other traits ;
and that, within certain limits, it is determined by local con-
ditions, which here favour preservation of the larger, and
elsewhere, when nothing is gained by size, conduce to the
spread of a smaller variety relatively more prolific. But we
may further conclude that since* in the conflicts between
races, superiority of size gives advantages, there has been a
survival of the larger, which has told where other conditions
have allowed ; implying that the average primitive man was
somewhat less than, is the average civilized man

§ 25. Ab of stature, so of struoture, we must say that the

THE PRIMITIVE MAK— PHYSICAL. 43

contrast is not marked. Passing over smaller distinctive
traits of inferior human races, such as the deviation in the
form of the pelvis, and the existence of solid bone where, in
the civilized, the frontal sinus exists, we may limit ourselves
to traits which have a meaning for ua.

Men of rude types are generally characterized by relatively
small lower limbs. Pallas describes the Ostyaks as having
"thin and slender legs/' I find two authorities mentioning
the "short legs" and "slender legs" of the Kamschadales.
So, among the Hill-tribes of India, Stewart says the Eookies
have legs "short in comparison to the length of their bodies,
and their arms long " Of sundry American races the like is
remarked. We read of the Chinoofo that they have " small
and crooked " legs ; of the Guaranis, that their " arms and
legs are relatively short and thick ;" and even of the gigantic
Patagonians it is asserted that " their limbs are neither so
muscular nor so large-boned as their height and apparent
bulk would induce one to suppose." This truth holds in
Australia, too. Even if the leg-bones of Australians are
equal in length to those of Europeans, it is unquestionable
thai their legs are inferior in massivenesa. Though I find
no direct statement respecting the Fuegians under this head,
yet since, while said to be short, they are said to have bodies
comparable in bulk to those of higher races, it is inferable
that their deficiency of height results from the. shortness of
their legs. Lastly, the Akka not only have " short, bandy
legs," but, though agile, their powers of locomotion are
defective : "every step they take is accompanied by a lurch ;"
and Schweinfurth describes the one who was with him for
many months, as never able to carry a full dish, without
spilling. Those remains of extinct races lately referred to,
seem also to countenance the belief that the primitive man
was characterised by lower limbs inferior to our own : the
platycnemic tibia once characterizing tribes of mankind
were so widely dispersed, seem to imply this. While

44 TOE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

recognizing differences, we may fairly say that this trait of
relatively-inferior legs is sufficiently marked; and it is a
trait which, remotely simian, is also repeated by the child of
the civilized man.

That the balance of power between legs and arms, originally
adapted to climbing habits, is likely to have been changed in
the course of progress, is manifest During the conflicts
between races, an advantage must have been gained by those
having legs somewhat more developed at the expense of the
body at large. I do not mean chiefly an advantage in swift-
ness or agility ; I mean in trials of strength at close quarters.
In combat, the force exerted by arms and trunk is limited by
the ability of the legs to withstand the strain thrown on them.
Hence, apart from advantages in locomotion, the stronger-
legged races have tended to become, other things equal,
dominant races.

Among other structural traits of the primitive man which
we have to note, the most marked is the larger size of the
jaws and teeth. This is shown not simply in that progna-
thous form characterizing various inferior races, and, to an
extreme degree, the Akka, but it is shown also in races
otherwise characterized: even ancient British skulls have
relatively-massive jaws. That this trait is connected with
the eating of coarse food, hard, tough, and often uncooked,
and perhaps also with the greater use of the teeth in place of
tools, as we see our own boys use them, is fairly inferable.
Diminution of function has brought diminution of size, both
of the jaws and of the attached muscles. Whence, too, as a
remoter sequence, that diminution of the zygomatic arches
through which these muscles pass : producing an additional
difference of outline in the civilized face.

These changes are noteworthy as illustrating, unmistak-
ably, the reaction which social development, with all the
appliances it brings, has on the structure of the social unit,
And recognizing the externally-visible changes arising from

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — PHYSICAL. 45

this cause, we can the less doubt the occurrence of internal
changes, as of brain, arising from the same cause.

§ 26. One further morphological trait may be dealt with
in immediate connexion with physiological traits. I refer to
the size of the digestive organs.

Here we have little beyond indirect evidence. In the
absence of some conspicuous modification of figure caused by
large stomach and intestines, this character is one not likely
to have been noticed by travellers. Still, we have some
facta to the point The Kamschadales are described as
having " a hanging belly, slender legs and arms.1' Of the
Bushmen, Barrow writes, " their bellies are uncommonly pro-
tuberant" Schweinfurth speaks of the " large, bloated belly
and short, bandy legs " of the Akka ; and elsewhere, describ-
ing the structure of this degraded type of man, he says—
* The superior region of the chest is fiat, and much contracted,
but it widens out below to support the huge hanging
belly/9 Indirect evidence is supplied by the young,

alike of civilized and savage peoples. Doubtless, the re-
latively-large abdomen in the child of the civilized man, is
in the main an embryonic trait But as the children of
inferior races are more distinguished in this way than our
own children, we get indirect reason for thinking that the
less-developed man was thus distinguished from the more-
developed. Schweinfurth refers to the children of the
African Arabs as like the Akka in this respect Describing
the Veddahs, Tennant mentions the protuberant stomachs of
the children. Galton says of the Damara children, that " all
have dreadfully swelled stomachs." And from Dr. Hooker I
learn that the like trait holds throughout Bengal.

The possession of a relatively-larger alimentary system is,
indeed, a character of the lowest races inferable from their
immense capacities for containing and digesting food
Wrangel says each of the Yakuts ate in a day six times as
many fish as he could eat Cochrane describes a five-year-

46 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

old child of this race as devouring three candles, several
pounds of sour frozen butter, and a large piece of yellow soap ;
and adds — " I have repeatedly seen a Yakut, or a Tongouse,
devour forty pounds of meat in a day." Of the Comanches,
Schoolcraft says — " After long abstinence they eat voraciously,
and without apparent inconvenience." Thompson remarks
that the Bushmen have " powers of stomach similar to the
beasts of prey, both in voracity and in supporting hunger."
And no less clear is the implication of the stories of gluttony
told by Captain Lyon about the Esquimaux, and by Sir G.
Grey about the Australians.

Such traits are necessary. A digestive apparatus large
enough for a European, feeding at short and regular in-
tervals, would not be large enough for a savage whose
meals, sometimes scanty, sometimes abundant, follow one
another, now quickly, and now after the lapse of daya A
man who depends on the chances of the chase, will profit by
the ability to digest a great quantity when it is obtainable, to
compensate for intervals of semi-starvation. A stomach, able
to deal only with a moderate meal, must leave its possessor
at a disadvantage in comparison with one whose stomach
is able, by immense meals, to make up for many meals
missed. Beyond the need hence arising for a large

alimentary system, there is the need arising from the low
quality of the food. Wild fruits, nuts, roots, shoots, etc.,
must be eaten in great masses to yield the required supplies
of nitrogenous compounds, fats, and carbo-hydrates ; and of
animal food, the insects, larvae, worms, vermin, consumed in
default of larger prey, contain much useless matter. Indeed,
the worn teeth of savages suffice of themselves to prove
that much indigestible matter is masticated and swallowed.
Hence, such an abdominal development as the Akka show
in a degree almost ape-like, is a trait of primitive man neces-
sitated by primitive conditions.

Just noting that some waste of force results from carrying
about relatively-larger stomach and intestines, let us observe,

TUB PRIMITIVE MAX— PHYSICAL. 47

chiefly, the physiological effects accompanying such a struc-
ture adapted to such circumstances. At times when enprmous
meals have to be digested, repletion must produce inertness ;
and at times when, from lack of food, the energies flag, there
can be none to spare for any activities save those prompted
by hunger. Clearly, the irregular feeding entailed on the
primitive man, prevents continuous labour : so hindering, in
yet another way, the actions required to lead him out of his
primitive state.

§ 27. There is evidence that, apart from stature and apart
even from muscular development, the uncivilized man is less
powerful than the civilized man. He is unable to expend
suddenly as great an amount of force, and he is unahle to
continue the expenditure of force for so long a time.

• Of the Tasmanians, now no longer existing, P&on said
that, though they were vigorous-looking, the dynamometer
proved them to be inferior in strength. Their allies by race,
the Papuans, "although well made/' are described as being
" our inferiors in muscular power.*9 [Respecting the aborigines
of India, the evidence is not quite consistent Mason asserts
of other Hill-tribes, as of the Karens, that their strength
soon flags ; while Stewart describes the Kookie boys as very
enduring: the anomaly being, as we shall presently see,
possibly due to the fact that he did not test their endurance
over successive days. While saying that the Damaras have
"immense muscular development," Galton says — "I never
found one who was anything like a match for the average of
my own men " in trials of strength ; and Andersson makes a
like remark. Galton further observes that " in a long, steady
journey the savages [Damaras] quickly knock up unless they
adopt some of our usages." Similarly with American races.
King found the Esquimaux relatively weak; and Burton
remarks of the Dakotahs that, "like all savages, they are
deficient in corporeal strength."

There are probably two causes for this contrast between

48 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

savage and civilized — relative innutrition, and a relatively-
smaller nervous system. The fact that a horse out
at grass gains in bulk while losing his fitness for continued
exertion, makes credible the statement that a savage may
have fleshy limbs and be comparatively weak ; and that his
weakness may be still more marked when his muscles, fed
by a blood of low quality, are, at the same time, small Men
in training find that it takes months to raise muscles to their
highest powers, whether of sudden exertion or prolonged
exertion. Whence we may infer that from food poor in kind
and irregularly supplied, deficiency of strength, under both
its forms, will result The other cause, less obvious,
is one which must not be overlooked. As was shown in the
Principles of Psychology, Ch. I., it is the nervous system rather
than the muscular system, which measures the force evolved.
In all animals the initiator of motion, the nervous system
varies in size partly as the quantity of motion generated and
partly as the complexity of that motion. On remembering
the failure of muscular power which comes along with flagging
emotions, or desires lapsing into indifference, and, contrariwise,
the immense power given by intense passion, we shall see how
immediate is the dependence of strength upon feeling. And,
seeing this, we shall understand why, other things equal, the
savage with a smaller brain, generating less feeling, is not so
strong.

§ 28. Among the physiological traits which distinguish
man in his primitive state from man in his advanced state,
we may, with certainty, set down relative hardiness. Con-
trast the trial of constitution which child-bearing brings on
the civilized woman, with that which it brings on the savage
woman. Ask what would happen to both mother and child,
under the conditions of savage life, had they no greater
toughness of physique than is possessed by the civilized
mother and child. Both the existence of this trait and its
necessity will then be obvious.

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — PHYSICAL. 49

Survival of the fittest must ever have tended to produce
and maintain a constitution capable of enduring the pains,
hardships, injuries, necessarily accompanying a life at the
mercy of surrounding actions. The Fuegian who quietly lets
the falling, sleet melt on his naked body, must be the product
of a discipline which has killed off all who were not extremely
tenacious of life. When we read that the Yakuts, who from
their ability to bear cold are called " iron men," sometimes
sleep " completely exposed to the heavens, with scarcely any
clothing on, and their bodies covered with a thick coat of
rime/' we must infer that their adaptation to the severities of
their climate has resulted from the habitual destruction of
all but the most resisting. Similarly with respect to another
detrimental influence. Mr. Hodgson remarks that a " capacity
to breathe malaria as though it were common air, charac-
terizes nearly all the Tamulian aborigines of India;" .and
the ability of some Negro-races to live in pestilential regions,
shows that elsewhere there has been produced a power to
withstand deleterious vapours. So, too, is it with the bear-
ing of bodily injuries. The recuperative powers of the Aus-
tralians, and of other low races, are notorious. Wounds
which would be fatal to Europeans they readily recover
from.

Whether this gain entails loss in other directions, we have
no direct evidence. It is known that the hardier breeds of
domestic animals are smaller than the less hardy breeds;
and it may be that a human body adapted to extreme pertur-
bations, gains its adaptation at the expense, perhaps of size,
perhaps of energy. And if so, this fitness for primitive
conditions entails yet a further impediment to the establish-
ment of higher conditions.

§ 29. A closely-related physiological trait must be added.
Along with this greater ability to bear injurious actions,
there is a comparative indifference to the disagreeable or
painful sensations those actions cause ; or rather, the sensa-

£

£0 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

tions they cause are not so acute. According to Liechtenstein,
the Bushmen do not " appear to have any feeling of even the
most striking changes in the temperature of the atmosphere."
Gardiner says the Zulus " are perfect salamanders " — arranging
the burning faggots with their feet, and dipping their hands
into the boiling contents of cooking-vessels. The Abipones,
again, are "extremely tolerant of the inclemencies of the
sky." So is it with the feelings caused by bodily injuries.
Many travellers express surprise at the calmness with which
men of inferior types undergo serious operations. Evidently
the sufferings produced are much less than would be pro-
duced in men of higher types.

Here we have a further characteristic which might have
been inferred A priori. Pain of every kind, down even to
the irritation produced by discomfort, entails physiological
waste of a detrimental kind. No less certain than the fact
that continued agony is followed by exhaustion, which in
feeble persons may be fatal, is the fact that minor sufferings,
including the disagreeable sensations caused by cold and
hunger, undermine the energies, and may, when the vital
balance is difficult to maintain, destroy it. Among primi-
tive races the most callous must have had the advantage
when irremediable evils had to be borne ; and thus relative
callousness must have been made, by survival of the fittest,
constitutional

This physiological trait of primitive man has a meaning
for us. Positive and negative discomforts — the sufferings
which come from over-excited nerves, and the cravings
originated by parts of the nervous system debarred from their
normal actions — being the stimuli to exertion, it results that
the constitutionally callous are less readily spurred into
activity. A physical evil which prompts a relatively-sensitive
man to provide a remedy, leaves a relatively-insensitive man
almost or quite inert : either he submits passively, or he is
content with some make-shift remedy.

So that beyond positive obstacles to advance, there exists

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — PHYSICAL. 51

at the outset this negative obstacle, that the feelings which
prompt efforts and cause improvements are weak.

§ 30. As preliminary to the summing up of these physical
characters, I must name a most general one— early arrival
at maturity. Other things equal, the less evolved types of
organisms take shorter times to reach their complete forms
than do the more evolved; and this contrast, conspicuous
between men and most inferior creatures, is perceptible
among varieties of men. There is reason for associating
this difference with the difference in cerebral development.
The greater costliness of the larger brain, which so long
delays human maturity as compared with mammalian ma*
turity generally, delays also the maturity of the civilized
as compared with that of the savage. Causation apart,
however, the fact is that (climate and other conditions
being equal) the inferior races reach puberty sooner than
the superior races. Everywhere the remark is made that
the women early bloom and early fade ; and a corresponding
trait of course holds in the men. This completion of growth
and structure in a shorter period, implies less plasticity of
nature : the rigidity of adult life sooner makes modification
difficult. This trait has noteworthy consequences : one being
that it tends to increase those obstacles to progress arising
from the characters above described; which, on now re-
enumerating them, we shall see are already great.

If the primitive man was on the average less than man as
we now know him, there must have existed, during early stages
when also the groups of men were small and their weapons
ineffective, far greater difficulties than afterwards in dealing
with the larger animals, both enemies and prey. Inferiority
of the lower limbs, alike in size and structure, must also have
made primitive men less able to cope with powerful and swift
creatures ; whether they had to be escaped from or mastered.
His larger alimentary system, adapted to an irregular supply
of food, mostly interior in quality, dirty, and uncooked,

£ 2

52 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

besides entailing mechanical loss, gave to the primitive man
only an irregular supply of nervous power, smaller in average
amount than that which follows good feeding. Constitutional
callousness, even of itself adverse to progress, must, when
coexisting with this lack of persistent energy, have hindered
still further any change for the better. So that in three ways
the impediments due to physical constitution were at first
greater than afterwards. By his structure man was not so
well fitted for dealing with his difficulties ; the energies re*
quired for overcoming them were smaller as well as more
irregular in flow ; and he was less sensitive to the evils he
had to bear. At the time when his environment was entirely
unsubjugated, he was least able and least anxious to sub-
jugate it. While the resistances to progress were greatest,
the ability to overcome them and the stimulus to overcome
fliem were smallest.

CHAPTER VL

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — EMOTIONAL.

§ 31. A measure of evolution in living things, is the
degree of correspondence between changes in the organism
and coexistences and sequences in the environment. In the
Principles of Psychology (§§ 139 — 176), it was shown that
mental development is "an adjustment of inner to outer
relations that gradually extends in Space and Time, that
becomes increasingly special and complex, and that has its
elements ever more precisely co-ordinated and more com-
pletely integrated." Though in that place chiefly exemplified
as the law of intellectual progress, this is equally the law of
emotional progress. The emotions are compounded out of
simple feelings, or rather, out of the ideas of them ; the
higher emotions are compounded out of the lower emotions ;
and thus there is progressing integration. For the same
reason there is progressing complexity : each larger aggregate
of ideal feelings contains more varied, as well as more nume-
rous, clusters of components. Extension of the correspon-
dence in Space, too, though less manifest, is visible : witness
the difference between the proprietary feeling in the savage,
responding only to a few adjacent objects — food, weapons,
decorations, place of shelter — and the proprietary feeling in
the civilized man, who owns land in Canada, shares in an
Australian mine, Egyptian stock, and mortgage-bonds on an
Indian railway. And that a kindred extension of the corre-

54 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

spondence in Time occurs, will be manifest on remembering
how, in ourselves, the sentiment of possession prompts acts
of which the fruition can come only after many years, and is
even gratified by an ideal power over bequeathed property.

As was pointed out in a later division of the Principles of
Psychology (§§ 479 — 483), a more special measure of mental
development is the degree of representativeness in the states
of consciousness. Cognitions and feelings were both clas-
sified in the ascending order of presentative, presentative-
representative, representative, and re-representative. It was
shown that this more special standard harmonizes with the
more general standard ; since higher representativeness is
implied by the more extensive integrations of ideas, by the
increased definiteness with which ideas are formed, by the
greater complexity of the integrated groups, as well as by the
greater heterogeneity among their elements ; and here it may
be added that higher representativeness is also shown by the
wider range in Space and in lime reached by the representa-
tions.

There is a further measure which may be serviceably used
along with the other two. In the Principles, of Psychology,
§ 253, we saw that —

"Mental evolution, both intellectual and emotional; may be measured
by the degree of remoteness from primitive reflex action. The forma-
tion of sudden, irreversible conclusions on the slenderest evidence, is
less distant from reflex action than is the formation of deliberate and
modifiable conclusions after much evidence has been collected. And
similarly, the quick passage of simple emotions into the particular kinds
of conduct they prompt, is less distant from reflex action than is the
comparatively-hesitating passage of. compound emotions into kinds of
conduct determined by the joint instigation of their components."

Here, then, are our guides .in -studying the emotional
nature of primitive .maw. Being less evolved, we must
expect to find him deficient in. those complex emotions which
respond to multitudinous ; and remote probabilities and con-
tingencies. His consciousness differs from that of the civil-
ized man, by consisting more of sensations and the simple

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — EMOTIONAL. 55

representative feelings directly associated with them, and less
of the involved representative feelings. And the relatively-
simple emotional consciousness thus characterized, we may
expect to be consequently characterized by more of that
irregularity which results when each desire as it arises
discharges itself in action before counter-desires have been
awakened.

§ 32. On turning from these deductions to examine the
facts with a view to induction, we meet difficulties like those
met in the last chapter. As in size and structure, the inferior
races differ from one another enough to produce some indefL-
niteness in our conception of the primitive man — physical ;
so in their passions and sentiments, the inferior races present
contrasts which obscure the essential traits of the primitive
man — emotional

This last difficulty, like the first, is indeed one that might
have been anticipated. Widely-contrasted habitats, entailing
widely-unlike modes of life, have necessarily caused emo-
tional specialization as well as physical specialization.
Farther, the inferior varieties of men have been made to
differ by the degrees and durations of social discipline they
have been subject to. Referring to such unlikenesses,
Mr. Wallace remarks that " there is, in fact, almost as much
difference between the various races of savage as of civilized
peoples."

To conceive the primitive man, therefore, as he existed
when social aggregation commenced, we must generalize as
well as we can this entangled and partially-conflicting evi-
dence : led mainly by the traits common to the very lowest,
and finding what guidance we may in the & priori conclusions
set down above.

$ 33. The fundamental trait of impulsiveness is not every-
where conspicuous. Taken in the mass, the aborigines of the
New World seem impassive in comparison with those of the

56 TIIE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

Old World : some of them, indeed, exceeding the civilized*
peoples of Europe in ability to control their emotions. The
.Dakotahs suffer with patience both physical and moral pains.
The Creeks display " phlegmatic coldness and indifference."
According to Bernau, the Guiana Indian, though " strong in
his affections, ... is never seen to weep, but will bear
the most excruciating pains and the loss of his dearest rela-
tions with apparent stoical insensibility;" and Humboldt
speaks of his " resignation." Wallace comments on " the
apathy of the Indian, who scarcely ever exhibits any feelings
of regret on parting or of pleasure on his return.,, And that
a character of this kind was wide-spread, seems implied by
accounts of the ancient Mexicans, Peruvians, and peoples of
Central America. Nevertheless, there are among

these races traits of a contrary kind, more congruous with
those of the uncivilized at large. Spite of their usually
unimpassioned behaviour, the Dakotahs rise into frightful
states of bloody fury when killing buffaloes ; and among the
phlegmatic Creeks, there are " very frequent suicides " caused
by " trifling disappointments." Some of the American in-
digenes, too, do not show this apathy ; as, in the North, the
Chinook Indian, who is said to be " a mere child, irritated
by, and pleased with, a trifle;" and as, in the South, the
Brazilian, of whom we read that "if a savage struck a
foot against a stone, he raged over it, and bit it like a
dog." Such non-impulsiveness as exists in the

American races, may possibly be due to constitutional inert-
ness. Among ourselves, there are people whose equanimity
results from want of vitality : being but half alive, the emo-
tions roused in them by irritations have less than the usual
intensities. That apathy thus caused may account for this
peculiarity, seems, in South America, implied by the alleged
sexual coldness.

Recognizing what anomaly there may be in these facts,
we find, throughout the rest of the world, a general con-
gruity. Passing from North America to Asia, we come to

TTIE PRIMITIVE MAN — EMOTIONAL. 57

the Kamschadales, who are " excitable, not to say (for men)
hysterical. A light matter sent them mad, or made them
commit suicide;" and we come to the Kirghiz, who are
said to be "fickle and uncertain." Turning to Southern
Asiatics, we find Burton asserting of the Bedouin that his
valour is " fitful and uncertain." And while, of the Arabs,
Denham Temarks that " their common conversational inter-
course appears to be a continual strife and quarrel," Palgravc
says they will " chaffer half a day about a penny, while they
will throw away the worth of pounds on the first asker." In
Africa like traits occur. Premising that the East- African is,
"like all other barbarians, a strange mixture of good and
evil," Burton describes him thus : —

"He is at once very good-tempered and hard-hearted, combative
and cautions ; kind at one moment, cruel, pitiless, and violent at
another; sociable and unaffectionate ; superstitious and grossly irre-
verent ; brave and cowardly ; servile and oppressive ; obstinate, yet
fickle and fond of change ; with points of honour, but without a trace
of honesty in word or deed ; a lover of life, yet addicted to suicide ;
covetous and parsimonious, yet thoughtless and improvident."

With the exception of the Bechuanas, the like is true of
the races further south. Thus, in the Damara, the feeling
of revenge is very transient — " gives way to admiration of
the oppressor." Burchell describes the Hottentots as passing
from extreme laziness to extreme eagerness for action. And
the Bushman is quick, generous, headstrong, vindictive —
very noisy quarrels are of daily occurrence : father and son
will attempt to kill each other. Of the scattered societies
inhabiting the Eastern Archipelago, those in which the
Malay-blood predominates, do not exhibit this trait. The
Malagasy are said to have "passions never violently
excited;" and the pure Malay is described as not demon-
strative. The rest, however, have the ordinary variability.
Among the Negritos, the Papuan is "impetuous, excitable
noisy ;" the Fijians have " emotions easily roused, but tran-
sient/' and *' are extremely changeable in their disposition ?
the Andamanese " are all frightfully passionate and revenge-

58 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

ful ;" and of the Tasinanians we read that, " like all savages,
they quickly changed from smiles to tears." So, too, of the
other lowest races : there are the Fuegians, who " have hasty
tempers/' and " are loud and furious talkers ;" there are the
Australians, whose impulsiveness Haygarth implies by say-
ing that the angry Australian jin exceeds the European scold,
and that a man remarkable for haughtiness and reserve
sobbed long when his nephew was taken from him. Bearing
in mind that such non-impulsiveness as is shown by the
Malays occurs in a partially-civilized race, and that the
lowest races, as the Andamanese, Tasmanians, Fuegians,
Australians, betray impulsiveness in a very decided manner ;
we may safely assert it to be a trait of primitive man.
What the earliest character was, is well suggested by the
following vivid description of a Bushman. Indicating his
simian appearance, Lichtenstein continues : —

" What gives the more verity to such a comparison was the vivacity
of his eyes, and the flexibility of his eyebrows, which he worked up and
down with every change of countenance. Even his nostrils and the
corners of his mouth, nay, his very ears, moved involuntarily, ex-
pressing his hasty transitions from eager desire to watchful distrust
. . . When a piece of meat was given him, and half -rising he stretched
out a distrustful arm to take it, he snatched it hastily, and stuck it
immediately into the fire, peering around with his little keen eyes, as
if fearing that some one should take it away again : — all this was done
with such looks and gestures, that anyone must have been ready to
swear he had taken the example of them entirely from an ape.0

Evidence that early human nature differed from later
human nature by having this extreme emotional variability,
is yielded by the contrast between the child and the adult
among ourselves. For on the hypothesis of evolution, the
civilized man, passing through phases representing phases
passed through by the race, will, early in life, betray this
impulsiveness which the early race had. The saying that
the savage has the mind of a child with the passions of
a man (or, rather, has adult passions which act in a childish
manner) possesses a deeper meaning than appears. There is
a relationship between the two natures such that, allowing

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — EMOTIONAL. 59

for differences of kind and degree in the emotions, we may
regard the co-ordination of them in the child as analogous to
the oo-ordination in the primitive man.

$ 34 The more special emotional traits are in large part
dependent on, and farther illustrative of, this general trait.
This relative impulsiveness, this smaller departure from
primitive reflex action, this lack of the re-representative
emotions which hold the simpler ones in check, is accom-
panied by improvidence.

The Australians are "incapable of anything like perse-
vering labour, the reward of which is in futurity;" the
Hottentots are " the laziest people under the sun ;" and with
the Bushmen it is "always either a feast or a famine."
Passing to the indigenes of India, we read of the Todas that
they are " indolent and slothful;" of the Bhils, that they have
Ma contempt and dislike to labour" — will half starve rather
than work ; of the Santals, that they have not " the uncon-
querable laziness of the very old Hill-tribes." So, from
Northern Asia, the Kirghiz may be taken as exemplifying
idleness. In America, we have the fact that none of the
aboriginal peoples, if uncoerced, show capacity for industry :
in the North, cut off from his hunting life, the Indian,
capable of no other, decays and disappears; and in the
South, the tribes disciplined by the Jesuits lapsed into their
original state, or a worse, when the stimuli and restraints
ceased. All which facts are in part ascribable to inadequate
consciousness of the future. Where, as in sundry Malayo-
Polynesian societies, we find considerable industry, it -goes
along with a social state implying discipline throughout a
long past It is true that perseverance with a view to
remote benefit occurs among savages. They bestow much
time and pains on their weapons, etc. : six months to make
as many arrows, a year in hollowing out a bowl, and many
years in drilling a hole through a stone. But in these
cases little muscular effort is required, and the activity is

60 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

thrown on perceptive faculties which are constitutionally
active.*

A trait which naturally goes along with inability so to
conceive the future as to be influenced by the conception,
is a childish mirthfulness. Though sundry races of the New
World, along with their general impassiveness, are little
inclined to gaiety, and though among the Malay races and
the Dyaks gravity is a characteristic, yet, generally, it is
otherwise. Of the New Caledonians, Fijians, Tahitians, New
Zealanders, we read that they are always laughing and
joking. Throughout Africa the Negro has the same trait;
and of other races, in other lands, the descriptions of various
travellers are — " full of fun and merriment," " full of life and
spirits," "merry and talkative," "sky-larking in all ways,"
"boisterous gaiety," "laughing immoderately at trifles."
Even the Esquimaux, notwithstanding all their privations,
are described as "a happy people." We have but to re-
member how greatly anxiety about coming events moderates
the spirits — we have but to contrast the lively but improvi-
dent Irishman with the grave but provident Scot — to see
that there is a relation between these traits in the uncivilized
man. Thoughtless absorption in the present causes at the
same time these excesses of gaiety and this inattention to
threatened evils.

Along with improvidence there goes, both as cause and
consequence, an undeveloped proprietary sentiment. Under
his conditions it is impossible for the savage to have an

* It should be remarked as a qualifying fact, which has its physiological,
as well as its sociological, interest, that men and women are in sundry cases
described as unlike in powers of application. Among the Bhils, while the
men hate labour, many of the women are said to be industrious. Among
the Kookies the women are " quite as industrious and indefatigable as the
Naga women :" the men of both tribes being inclined to be lazy. Similarly
in Africa. In Loango, though the men are inert, the women " give them-
selves up to " husbandry " with indefatigable ardour ;" and our recent expe-
riences on the Gold-Coast show that a like contrast holds there. The
establishment of Ibis difference seems to imply the limitation of heredity
by sez.

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — EMOTIONAL. 61

extended consciousness of individual possession. Estab-
lished, as the sentiment can be, only by experiences of the
gratifications which possession brings, continued through
successive generations, it cannot arise where the circum-
stances do not permit many such experiences. Beyond the
few rode appliances ministering to bodily wants and decora-
tions, the primitive man has nothing to accumulate. Where
he has grown into a pastoral life, there arises a possibility of
benefits from increased possessions : he profits by multiplying
his flocks. Still, while he remains nomadic, it is difficult to
supply his flocks with unfailing food when they axe large,
and he has increased losses from enemies and wild animals ;
so that the benefits of accumulation are kept within narrow
limits. Only as the agricultural state is reached, and only as
the tenure of land passes from the tribal form, through the
iamily form, to the individual form, is there a widening
of the sphere for the proprietary sentiment

Distinguished by improvidence, and by deficiency of that
desire to own which checks improvidence, the savage is thus.
debarred from experiences which develop this desire and
diminish the improvidence.

§ 35. Let us turn now to those emotional traits which
directly affect the formation of social groups. Varieties of
mankind are social in different degrees; and, further, are
here tolerant of restraint and there intolerant of it. Clearly,
the proportions between these two characteristics must
greatly affect social unions.

Describing the Mantras, indigenes of the Malay-peninsula,
pfere Bourien says — "liberty seems to be to them a necessity
of their very existence;9' "every individual lives as if there
were no other person in the world but himself;" they
separate if they dispute. So is it with the wild men in the
interior of Borneo, "who do not associate with each other;"
and whose children, When "old enough to shift for them-
selves, usually separate, neither one afterwards thinking of

62 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

the other." A nature of this kind shows its effects in the
solitary families of the wood-Veddahs, or those of the Bush-
men, whom Arboiisset describes as "independent and poor
beyond measure, as if they had sworn to remain always free
and without possessions." Of sundry races that remain in a
low state, this trait is remarked; as of Brazilian Indians,
who, tractable when quite young, begin to display "im-
patience of all restraint" at puberty; as of the Caribs, who
are " impatient under the least infringement " of their inde-
pendence. Among Indian Hill-tribes the savage Bhils have
"a natural spirit of independence;" the Bodo and Dhiinal
"resist injunctions injudiciously urged, with dogged ob-
stinacy ;" and the Lepchas " undergo great privations rather
than submit to oppression." This trait we meet with again
among some nomadic races. "A Bedouin," says Burckhardt,
"will not submit to any command, but readily yields to
persuasion;" and he is said by Palgrave to have "a high
appreciation of national and personal liberty." That this
moral trait is injurious during early stages of social progress,
is in some cases observed by travellers, as by Earl, who says
of the New Guinea people that their "impatience of control"
precludes organization. Not, indeed, that absence

of independence will of itself cause an opposite result.
The Kamschadales exhibit "slavishness to people who use
them hard," and "contempt of those who treat them with,
gentleness;" and while the Damaras have "no indepen-
dence," they "court slavery: admiration and fear" being
their only strong sentiments. A certain ratio between the
feelings prompting obedience and prompting resistance,
seems required. The Malays, who have evolved into several
semi-civilized societies, are said to be submissive to authority;
and yet each is "sensitive to . . . any interference with
the personal liberty of himself or another." Clearly, how-
ever, be the cause of subordination what it may, a relatively-
subordinate nature is everywhere shown by men composing
social aggregates of considerable sizes. In such semi-civilized

THE PRIMITIVE MAN— EMOTIONAL. 63

communities as tropical Africa contains, it is conspicuous ;
and it characterized the peoples who formed the extinct
oriental nations, as also those who formed the extinct nations
of the New World.

If, as among the Mantras above named, intolerance of
restraint is joined with want of sociality, there is a double
obstacle to social union : a cause of dispersion is not checked
by a cause of aggregation. If, as among the Todas, a man
will sit inactive for hours, " seeking no companionship," he is
under less temptation to tolerate restrictions than if solitude
is unbearable. Clearly, the ferocious Fijian in whom, strange
as it seems, "the sentiment of friendship is strongly de-
veloped," is impelled by this sentiment, as well as by his
extreme loyalty, to continue in a lociety in which despotism
based on cannibalism is without check.

Induction thus sufficiently verifies the deduction that
primitive men, who, before any arts of life were developed,
necessarily lived on wild food, implying wide dispersion of
small numbers, were, on the one hand, not much habituated
to associated life, and were, on the other hand, habituated
to that uncontrolled following of immediate desires which
goes along with separateness. So that while the attractive
force was small the repulsive force was great. Only as they
were led into greater gregariousness by local conditions
which furthered the maintenance of many persons on a small
area, could there come that increase of sociality required
to check unrestrained action. And here we see yet a further
difficulty which stood in the way of social evolution at the
outset.

§ 36. Led as we thus are from emotions of an exclusively-
egoistic kind to emotions which imply the presence of other
individuals, let us take first the ego-altruistic. (Prin. of Psy.f
§§ 519 — 23.) Before there exist in considerable degrees the
sentiments which find satisfaction in the happiness of others,
there exist in considerable degrees the sentiments which find

64 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

satisfaction in the admiration given by others. Even animal^
show themselves gratified by applause after achievement;
and in men the gregarious life early opens and enlarges this
source of pleasure.

Great as is the vanity of the civilized, it is exceeded by
that of the uncivilized. The red pigment and the sea-shells
pierced for suspension, found with other traces of men in the
Dordogne caves, prove that in that remote past when the
rein-deer and the mammoth inhabited southern France, men
drew to themselves admiring glances by colours and orna-
ments. Self-decoration occupies the savage chief even more
than it does the fashionable lady among ourselves. The
painting of the skin, about which so much trouble is taken
before clothes are used, shows this. It is shown again by
submission to prolonged and repeated tortures while being
tattooed ; and by tolerance of those pains and inconveniences
which accompany the distension of the under-lip by a block
of wood, the wearing of stones in holes made through the
cheeks, or of quills through the nose. The strength of the
desire to gain approbation is, in these cases, proved by the
universality of the fashion in each tribe. When the age
comes, there is no escape for the young savage from the
ordained mutilation. Fear of the frowns and taunts of his
fellows is so great that dissent is almost unknown.

It is thus, too, with the regulation of conduct. The pre-
cepts of the religion of enmity are, in early stages of social
development, enforced mainly by the aid of this ego-altruistic
sentiment. The duty of blood-revenge is made imperative
by tribal opinion. Approval comes to the man who, having
lost a relative, never ceases his pursuit of the supposed
murderer; while scowls and gibes make intolerable the life
of one who fails. Similarly with the fulfilment of various
usages that have become established. In some uncivilized
societies it is not uncommon for a man to ruin himself by a
funeral feast ; and in some semi-civilized societies, one motive
fo* killing a female infant is avoidance of the future cost of a

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — EMOTIONAL. 65

marriage festival — a cost made great by the prevailing love
of display.

This ego-altruistic sentiment, increasing in strength asl
social aggregation advances, is, during early stages, an im-
portant controlling agency; as, indeed, it continues still to
be. Joined with sociality, it has ever been a power helping
to bind together the units of each group, and tending to
cultivate a conduct furthering the general welfare. Pro-
bably a kind of subordination was produced by it before
there was any political subordination; and in some cases
it secures social order even now. Mr. Wallace says : —

u I have lived with communities of savages in South America and in
the East, who have no lawB or law courts but the public opinion of the
village freely expressed. Eacfrman scrupulously respects the rights of
his fellow, and any infraction of those rights rarely or never takes place.
In such a community all are nearly equal."

§ 37. Traits of the primitive nature due to presence or
absence of the altruistic sentiments, remain to be glanced at.
Having sympathy for their root, these must, on the hypothesis
of evolution, develop in proportion as circumstances make
sympathy active ; that is — in proportion as they foster the
domestic relations, in proportion as they conduce to sociality,
and in proportion as they do not cultivate aggressiveness.

Evidence for and against this a priori inference is difficult
to disentangle and to generalize. Many causes conspire to
mislead us. We assume that there will be tolerably uniform
manifestations of character in each race ; but we are wrong.
Both the individuals and the groups differ considerably ; as
in Australia, where one tribe "is decidedly quiet," and
another " decidedly disorderly." We assume that the traits
shown will be similar on successive occasions, which they are
not : the behaviour to one traveller is unlike the behaviour to
another; probably because their own behaviours are unlike.
Commonly, too, the displays of character by an aboriginal
race revisited, depend on the treatment received from pre-
vious visitors: being changed from friendliness to enmity by

66 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

painful experiences. Thus, of Australian travellers, it is
remarked that the earlier speak more favourably of the
natives than the later; and Earl says of the Java people,
that those inhabiting parts little used by Europeans "are
much superior in point of morality to the natives of the
north coast/' whose intercourse with Europeans has been
greater. When, led by his experiences in the Pacific,
Erskine remarks, " nor is it at all beyond the range of pro-
bability that habits of honesty and decorum may yet be
forced upon the foreign trader by those whom he has hitherto
been accustomed to consider as the treacherous and irre-
claimable savages of the sandal- wood islands ; " when we
learn that in Vate, the native name for a white man is a
"sailing profligate;" and when we remember that worse
names are justified by recent doings in those regions; we
shall understand how conflicting statements about native
characters may result.

Beyond the difficulty hence arising, is the difficulty arising
from that primitive impulsiveness, which itself causes a
variability perplexing to one who would form a conception
of the average nature. As Livingstone says of the Makololo
— " It would not be difficult to make these people appear
excessively good or uncommonly bad ;" and the inconsistent
traits above quoted from Captain Burton, imply a parallel
experience. Hence we have to strike an average among
manifestations naturally chaotic, which are further distorted
by the varying relations to those who witness them.

We may best guide ourselves by taking, first, not the
altruistic sentiments, but the feeling which habitually co-
operates with them — the parental instinct, the love of the
helpless. (Prin, of Pay., § 532.) Of necessity the lowest
human races, in common with inferior animals, have large
endowments of this. Those only can survive in posterity in
whom the love of offspring prompts due care of offspring ; and
among the savage, the self-sacrifice required is as great as
among the civilized Ilence the fondness for children which

THE PKIMinVB MAN — EMOTIONAL. 67

even the lowest of mankind display ; though, with their habi-
tual impulsiveness, they often join with it great cruelty. The
Fuegians, described as " very fond " of their children, never-
theless sell them to the Patagouians for slaves. Great love
of offspring is ascribed to the New Guinea people ; and yet
a man will " barter one or two " with a trader for something
he wants. The Australians, credited by Eyre with strong
parental affection, are said to desert sick children ; and Angas
asserts of them that on the Murray they sometimes kill a
boy to bait their hooks with his fat. Though among the
Tasmanians the parental instinct is described as strong, yet
they practised infanticide ; and though, among the Bushmen,
the rearing of offspring under great difficulties implies much
devotion, yet Moffat says they " kill their children without
remorse on various occasions." Omitting further proofs of
parental love on the one hand, qualified on the other by
examples of a violence which will slay a child for letting
fall something it was carrying, we may safely say of the
primitive man that his philoprogenitiveness is strong, but its
action, like that of his emotions in general, irregular.

Keeping this in mind, we shall be aided in reconciling the
conflicting accounts of his excessive egoism and his fellow
feeling — his cruelty and his kindnesa The Fuegians are
affectionate towards each other ; and yet in times of scarcity
they kill the old women for food. Mouat, who describes the
Andamanese as a merciless race, nevertheless says that the
one he took to Calcutta had a " very kind and amiable cha-
racter." Many and extreme cruelties are proved against the
Australians. Yet Eyre testifies to their kindness, their self-
sacrifice, and even their chivalry. So, too, of the Bushmen.
Iichtenstein thinks that in no savage is there "so high a
degree of brutal ferocity ; " but Moffat was " deeply affected
by the sympathy of these poor Bushmen/' and BurcheU says
that they show to each other ''hospitality and generosity
often in an extraordinary degree." When we come to races
higher in social state, the testimonies to good feeling are

¥ 2

68 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

abundant The New Caledonians are said to be " of a mild
and good-natured temper;" the Tannese are "ready to do
any service that lies in their power;" the New Guinea
people are " good-natured," " of a mild disposition." Passing
from Negritos to Malayo-Polynesians, we meet with like
characteristics. The epithets applied to the Sandwich
Islanders are " mild, docile ; " to the Tahitians, " cheerful and
good-natured ; " to the Dyaks, " genial ; " to the Sea-Dyaks,
" sociable and amiable ; " to the Javans, " mild," " cheerful
and good-humoured ; " to the Malays of Northern Celebes,
" quiet and gentle." We have, indeed, in other cases, quite
opposite descriptions. In the native Brazilians, revenge is
said to be the predominant passion : a trapped animal they
kill with little wounds that it may " suffer as much as pos-
sible." A leading trait ascribed to the Fijians is " intense
and vengeful malignity." Galton condemns the Damaras as
" worthless, thieving, and murderous," and Andersson as " un-
mitigated scoundrels." In some cases adjacent tribes show
us these opposite natures ; as among the aborigines of India.
While the Bhils are reputed to be cruel, revengeful, and ready
to play the assassin for a trifling recompense, the Nagas are
described as "good-natured and honest;" the Bodo and
Dhimal as " full of amiable qualities," " honest and truthful,"
" totally free from arrogance, revenge, cruelty ; " and of the
Lepcha, Dr. Hooker says his disposition is "amiable,"
" peaceful and no brawler : " thus " contrasting strongly with
his neighbours to the east and west."

Manifestly, then, uncivilized man, if he has but little active
benevolence, is not, as often supposed, distinguished by
active malevolence. Indeed, a glance over the facts tends
rather to show that while wanton cruelty is not common
among the least civilized, it is common among the more
civilized. The sanguinary Fijians have reached a considerable
social development. Burton says of the Fan that " cruelty
seems to be with him a necessary of life ;" and yet the Fans
have advanced arts and appliances, and live in villages having,

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — EMOTIONAL. 69

some of them, four thousand inhabitants. In Dahomey,
where a large population considerably organized exists, the
love for bloodshed leads to frequent horrible sacrifices ; and
the social system of the ancient Mexicans, rooted as it was
in cannibalism, and yet highly evolved in many ways, shows
us that it is not the lowest races which are the most inhuman.

Help in judging the moral nature of savages is furnished
by the remark of Mr. Bates, that " the goodness of these
Indians, like that of most others amongst whom I lived, con-
sisted perhaps more in the absence of active bad qualities,
than in the possession of good ones ; in other words, it was
negative rather than positive. . . . The good-fellowship
of our Cucdmas seemed to arise, not from warm sympathy,
but simply from the absence of eager selfishness in small
matters." And we shall derive further help in reconciling
what seem contradictory traits, by observing how the dog
unites great affectionateness, sociality, and even sympathy,
with habitual egoism and bursts of ferocity — how he passes
readily from playful friendliness to fighting, and while at one
time robbing a fellow dog of his food will at another succour
him in distress.

One kind of evidence, However, there is which amid all
these conflicting testimonies, affords tolerably-safe guidance.
The habitual behaviour to women among any people, indi-
cates with approximate- truth, the average power of the
altruistic sentiments; and the indication thus yielded tells
against the character of the primitive man. The actions of
the stronger sex to the weaker among the uncivilized are
frequently brutal ; and even at best the conduct is unsym-
pathetic That slavery of women, often joined with cruelty
to them, should be normal among savages, accepted as right
not by men only but by women themselves, proves that
whatever occasional displays of altruism there may be, the
ordinary flow of altruistic feeling is small

§ 38. A summary of these leading emotional traits must

70 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

be prefaced by one which affects all the others — the fixity of
habit : a trait connected with that of early arrival at matu-
rity, added at the close of the last chapter. The primitive
man is conservative in an extreme degree. Even on con-
trasting higher races with one another, and even on con-
trasting different classes in the same society, it is observable
that the least developed are the most averse to change.
Among the common people an improved method is difficult
to introduce ; and even a new kind of food is usually disliked.
The uncivilized man is thus characterized in yet a greater
degree. His simpler nervous system, sooner losing its plas-
ticity, is still less able to take on a modified mode of action.
Hence both an unconscious adhesion, and an avowed adhesion,
to that which is established. " Because same ting do for my
father, same ting do for me," say the Houssa negroes. The
Creek Indians laughed at those who suggested that they
should "alter their long-established customs and habits of
living." Of some Africans Livingstone says — " I often pre-
sented my friends with mm spoons, and it was curious to
observe how the habit of hand-eating prevailed, though they
were delighted with the spoons. They lifted out a little
[milk] with the utensil, then put it on the left hand, and ate
it out of that." How this tendency leads to unchangeable
social usages, is well shown by the Dyaks ; who, as Mr. Tylor
says, * marked their disgust at the innovation by levying a
fine on any of their own people who should be caught
chopping in the European fashion."

Becapitulating the emotional traits, severally made more
marked by thif* relative fixity of habit, we have first to note
the impulsiveness which, pervading the conduct of primitive
men, so greatly impedes co-operation. That " wavering and
inconstant disposition," which commonly makes it " impos-
sible to put any dependence on their promises " negatives
that mutual trust required for social progress. Governed
as he is by despotic emotions that successively depose
one another, instead of by a council of the emotions shared*

THE PRIMITIVE MAN— EMOTIONAL. 71

in by all, the primitive man has an explosive, chaotic, in-
calculable behaviour, which makes combined action very
difficult One of the more special traits, partly re*

suiting from this general trait, is his improvidence. Imme-
diate desire, be it for personal gratification or for the applause
which generosity brings, excludes fear of future evils ; while
pains and pleasures to come, not being vividly conceived,
give no adequate spur to exertion: leaving a light-hearted,
careless absorption in the present Sociality, strong

in the civilised man, is less strong in the savage man. Among
the lowest types the groups are small, and the bonds holding
their units together are relatively feeble. Along with a ten-
dency to disruption produced by the ill-controlled passions of
the individuals, there goes comparatively little of the sen-
timent causing cohesion. So that, among men carried from
one extreme to another by gusts of feeling — men often made
very irritable by hunger, which, as Livingstone remarks,
" has a powerful effect on the .temper" — there exists at once
a smaller tendency to cohere from mutual liking, and a
greater tendency to resist an authority otherwise causing
cohesion. Though, before there is much sociality,

there cannot be much love of approbation ; yet, with a mode-
rate progress in social grouping, there develops this simplest
of the higher sentiments. The great and immediate benefits
brought by the approval of fellow-savages, and the serious
evils following their anger or contempt, are experiences which
foster this ego-altruistic sentiment into predominance. And
by it some subordination to tribal opinion is secured, and some
consequent regulation of conduct, even before there arises a
rudiment of political control. In social groups

once permanently formed, the bond of union — here love of
society, there obedience caused by awe of power, elsewhere a
dread of penalties, and in most places a combination of these
— may go along with a very variable amount of altruistic
feeling. Though sociality fosters sympathy, yet the daily
doings of the primitive man repress sympathy. Active

72 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

fellow-feeling, ever awake and ever holding egoism in check,
does not characterize him ; as we see conclusively shown by
the treatment of women. And that highest form of altruistic
sentiment distinguished by us as a sense of justice, is very
little developed.

These emotional traits harmonize with those which we
anticipated — a less extended and less varied correspondence
with the environment, less representativeness, less remote-
ness from reflex action. The cardinal trait of impulsiveness
implies the sudden, or approximately-reflex, passing of a
single passion into the conduct it prompts ; implies, by the
absence of opposing feelings, that the consciousness is formed
of fewer representations ; and implies that the adjustment of
internal actions to external actions does not take account of
consequences so distant in space and time. So with the
accompanying improvidence : desire goes at once to gratifica-
tion ; there is feeble imagination of secondary results ; remote
needs are not met. The love of approbation which grows as
gregariousness increases, involves increased representative-
ness: instead of immediate results it contemplates results a
'stage further off; instead of actions prompted by single
desires, there come actions checked and modified by secondary
desires. But though the emotional nature in which this ego-
altruistic sentiment becomes dominant, is made by its pre-
sence less reflex,, more representative, and is adjusted to
wider and more varied, requirements, it is still, in these
respects, below that developed emotional nature of the
civilized man, marked by activity of the altruistic sentiments.
Lacking these, the primitive man lacks the benevolence
which adjusts conduct for the benefit of others distant in
space and time, the equity which implies representation of
highly complex and abstract relations among human actions,
the sense of duty which curbs selfishness when there are
none present to applaud.

CHAPTER VIL

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — INTELLECTUAL.

§ 39. The three measures of mental evolution which, in
the last chapter, helped us to delineate the emotional nature
of the primitive man, will, in this chapter, help us to
delineate his intellectual nature. And further to aid our-
selves we must recall, in connexion with these measures,
those traits of thought which, in the Principles of Psychology
(§§484-93), were shown to characterize a lower evolution as
compared with a higher.

Conceptions of general facts being derived from experiences
of particular facts and coming later, are deficient in the pri-
mitive man. Consciousness of a general truth implies more
heterogeneous correspondence than does consciousness of
any included particular truth ; it implies higher representa-
tiveness, since it colligates more numerous and varied ideas ;
and it is more remote from reiiex action — will not, indeed, of
itself, excite action at all Having no records, man,

in his uncivilized state, cannot recognize long sequences.
Hence prevision of distant results, such as is possible in a
settled society having measures and written language, is im-
possible to him : correspondence in time comes within nar-
row limits. The representations include few successions of
phenomena, and these not comprehensive ones. And there is
but a moderate departure from the reflex life in which stimulus

74 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY,

and act stand in immediate connexion. Ignorant

of localities outside his own, the associations of ideas the
primitive man forms are little liable to be changed. As
experiences (multiplying in number, gathered from a wider
area, and added to by those which other men record) become
more heterogeneous, the narrow notions first framed are
shaken and made more plastic — there comes greater modv-
/lability of belief. In his relative rigidity of belief we see a
smaller correspondence with an environment containing
adverse facts ; less of that representativeness which simul-
taneously grasps and averages much evidence ; and a smaller
divergence from those lowest actions in which impressions
cause, irresistibly, the appropriate motions. Con-

ditioned as he is, the savage lacks abstract ideas. Drawn
from many concrete ideas, an abstract idea becomes de-
tachable from them only as fast as their variety leads
to mutual cancellings of differences, and leaves outstand-
ing that which they have in common. This implies
growth of the correspondence in range and heterogeneity;
wider representation of the concretes whence the idea is
abstracted; and greater remoteness from reflex action. Such
abstract ideas as those of property and cause, belong to a
still higher stage. For only after many special properties
and many special causes have been abstracted, can there
arise the re-abstracted ideas of property in general and cause
in general. The conception of uniformity in the

order of phenomena, develops simultaneously. Only along
with the use of measures does there grow up the means of
ascertaining uniformity; and only after a great accumula-
tion of measured results does the idea of law become
possible. Here, again, the indices of mental evolution
serve. The conception of natural order presupposes an
advanced correspondence ; it involves re-representativeness
in a high degree; and the implied divergence from reflex
action is extreme. Until the notion of uniformity has

developed along with the use of measures, thought cannot

THE PRIMITIVE MAN— INTELLECTUAL. 75

have much definiteness. In primitive life, there is little to
yield the idea of agreement ; and so long as there are few
experiences of exact equality between objects, or perfect con-
formity between statements and facts, or complete fulfilment
of anticipations by results, the notion of truth cannot become
clear. Once more our general tests answer. The concep-
tion of truth, being the conception of correspondence between
Thoughts and Things, implies advance of that correspond-
ence ; it involves representations which are higher, as being
better adjusted to realities ; and its growth causes a decrease
of the primitive credulity allied to reflex action — allied,
since it shows us single suggestions producing sudden beliefs
which forthwith issue in conduct. Add that only as this
conception of truth advances, and therefore the correlative
conception of untruth, can doepticism and criticism grow
common. Lastly, such imagination as the primitive

man has, small in range and heterogeneity, is reminiscent
only, not constructive. An imagination which invents, shows
extension of the correspondence from the region of the
actual into that of the potential; implies a representativeness
not limited to combinations which have been, or are, in the
environment, but including non-existing combinations there-
after made to exist; and exhibits the greatest remoteness
from reflex action, since the stimulus issuing in movement is
unlike any that ever before acted.

And now, having enumerated these leading traits of in-
tellectual evolution in its latter stages, as deduced from
psychological principles, we are prepared to observe the
significance of the facts as described by travellers.

§ 40. Testimonies to the acute senses and quick percep-
tions of the uncivilized, are given by nearly everyone who
describes them.

lichtenstein says the vision of the Bushman is telescopic ;
and Barrow speaks of his "keen eye always in motion."
Of Asiatics may be named the Karens, who see as far with

76 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

naked eyes as we do with opera-glasses ; and the inhabitants
of the Siberian steppes are celebrated for their " distant and
perfect sight*' Of the Brazilians, Herndon writes — "The
Indians have very keen senses, and see and hear things that
are inaudible and invisible to us ; " and the like is remarked
of the Tupis. The Abipones, "like apes, are always in
motion ; " and Dobrizhoffer asserts that they discern things
which escape " the most quick-sighted European." Respect-
ing hearing, too, there is similar, if less abundant, evidence.
All have read of the feats of North American Indians in
detecting faint sounds ; and the acute hearing of the
Yeddahs is shown by their habit of finding bees' nests by
the hum.

Still more abundant are the testimonies respecting their
active and minute observation. " Excellent superficial ob-
servers," is the characterization Palgrave gives of the
Bedouins. Burton refers to the "high organization of the
perceptive faculties " among them ; and Petherick proved, by
a test, their marvellous powers of tracking. In South Africa
the Hottentots show astonishing quickness "in everything
relating to cattle;" and Galton says the Damaras "have a
wonderful faculty of recollecting any ox that they have
once seen." It is the same in America. Burton, speaking
of the Prairie Indians, comments on the " development of
the perceptions which is produced by the constant and
minute observations of a limited number of objects." In-
stances are given showing what exact topographers the
Chippewayans are ; and the like is alleged of the Dakotahs.
Bates notices the extraordinary " sense of locality " of the
Brazilian Indians. Concerning the Arawaks, Hillhouse
says — " Where an European can discover no indication
whatever, an Indian will point out the footsteps of any
number of negroes, and will state the precise day on
which they have passed ; and if on the same day he will
state the hour." A member of a Guiana tribe " will tell
how many men, women, and children have passed, where a

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — INTELLECTUAL. 77

stranger could only see faint and confused marks on the
path." "Here passes one who does not belong to our
Tillage/9 said a native of Guiana searching for tracks ; and
Schomburgh adds that their power " borders on the magical."

Along with this acuteness of perception there naturally
goes great skill in those actions depending on immediate
guidance of perception. The Esquimaux show great
dexterity in all manual works. Kolben asserts that the
Hottentots are very dexterous in the use of their weapons.
Of the Fuegians it is said that "their dexterity with the
sling is extraordinary," The skill of the Andamanese is
shown in their unerring shots with arrows at forty or fifty
yards. Tongans " are great adepts in managing their
canoes." The accuracy with which an Australian propels a
spear with his throwing-stick, is remarkable ; while all have
heard of his feats with the boomerang. And from the Hill-
tribes of India, the Santals may be singled out as so " very
expert with the bow and arrow " that they kill birds on the
wing, and knock over hares at full speed.

Recognizing some exceptions to this expertness, as among
the now-extinct Tasmanians and the Yeddahs of Ceylon ;
and observing that survival of the fittest must ever have
tended to establish these traits among men whose lives from
hour to hour depended on their keen senses, quick observa-
tions, and efficient uses of their weapons ; we have here to
note this trait as significant in its implications. For in
virtue of a general antagonism between the activities of
simple faculties and the activities of complex faculties, this
dominance of the lower intellectual life hinders the higher
intellectual life. In proportion as the mental energies go
out in restless perception, they cannot go out in deliberate
thought This truth we will contemplate from another point
of view.

§ 41. Not having special senses by which to discriminate,
the worm swallows bodily the mould containing vegetal

78 TUB DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

matter partially decayed: leaving its alimentaiy canal to
absorb what nutriment it can, and to eject, in the shape of
worm-cast, the 95 per cent, or so that is innutritive. Con-
versely, the higher annulose creature, with special senses, as
the bee, selects from plants concentrated nutritive matters
wherewith to feed its larvae, or, as the spider, sucks the ready-
prepared juices from the flies it entraps. The progress from
the less intelligent to the more intelligent and the most intel-
ligent among the Vertebrata, is similarly accompanied by
increasing ability in the selection of food. By herbivorous
mammals the comparatively innutritive parts of plants have
to be devoured in great quantities, that the requisite amounts
of nutriment may be obtained ; while carnivorous animals,
which are mostly more sagacious, live on concentrated foods
of which small quantities suffice. Though the monkey and
the elephant are not carnivorous, yet both have powers which,
certainly by the one and probably by the other,' are used in
choosing the nutritive parts of plants when these are to be
had. Coming to mankind, we observe that the diet is of the
most concentrated kind obtainable ; but that the uncivilized
man is less choice in his diet than the civilized. And then
among the highly civilized the most nutritive food is carefully
separated from the rest: even to the extent that at table
fragments of inferior quality are uneaten.

My purpose in naming these seemingly-irrelevant contrasts,
is to point out the analogy between progress in bodily nutri-
tion and progress in mental nutrition. The psychically
higher, like the physically higher, have greater powers of
selecting materials fit for assimilation. Just as by appearance,
texture, and odour, the superior animal is guided in choosing
food, and swallows only things which contain much organiz-
able matter ; so the superior mind, aided by what we may
figuratively call intellectual scent, passes by multitudes of
unorganizable facts, but quickly detects facts full of signifi-
cance, and takes them in as materials out of which cardinal
truths may be elaborated. The less-developed intelligences,

THE PRIMITIVE MAN— INTELLECTUAL. 79

tillable to decompose these more complex facts and assimilate
their components, and having therefore no appetites for them,
devour with avidity facts which are mostly valueless; and
out of the vast mass absorb very little that helps to form
general conceptions. Concentrated diet furnished by the
experiments of the physicist, the investigations of the political
economist, the analyses of the psychologist, is intolerable to
them, indigestible by them ; but instead, they swallow with
greediness the trivial details of table-talk, the personalities
of fashionable life, the garbage of the police and divorce
courts; while their reading, in addition to trashy novels,
includes memoirs of mediocrities, volumes of gossiping cor-
respondence, with an occasional history, from which they
carry away a few facts about battles and the doings of
conspicuous men. By such minds, this kind of intellectual
provender is alone available ; and to feed them on a higher
kind would be as impracticable as to feed a cow on meat

Suppose this contrast exaggerated — suppose the descent
from the higher to the lower intellects among ourselves, to
be continued by a second descent of like kind, and we get
to the intellect of the primitive man. A still greater atten-
tion to meaningless details, and a still smaller ability to select
facts from which conclusions may be drawn, characterize the
savage. Multitudes of simple observations are incessantly
made by him ; but such few as have significance, lost in the
mass of insignificant ones, pass through his mind without
leaving behind any data for thoughts, worthy to be so called.
Already in a foregoing section, the extreme perceptive
activity of the lowest races has been illustrated ; and here
may be added a few illustrations showing the reflective
inactivity going along with it. Of the Brazilian Indian
Mr. Bates remarks — " I believe he thinks of nothing except
the matters that immediately concern his daily material
wants." "He observes well, but he can deduce nothing
profitable from his perceptions/' says Burton, describing the
East African ; and he adds that the African's mind " will not,

80 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

and apparently cannot, escape from the circle of sense, nor
will it occupy itself with aught but the present" Still more
definite testimony is there respecting the Damara, "who
never generalizes." Mr. Galton states that one " who knew
the road perfectly from A to B and again from B to C
would have no idea of a straight cut from A to C : he has
no map of the country in his mind, but an infinity of local
details." Even the Bedouin, as Mr. Palgrave remarks,
"judges of things as he sees them present before him, not in
their causes or consequences." Some semi-civilized peoples,
as the Tahitians, Sandwich-Islanders, Javans, Sumatrans,
Malagasy, do, indeed, manifest " quickness of apprehension,
. . penetration and sagacity." But it is in respect
of simple things that their powers are shown ; as witness the
assertion of Mr. Ellis concerning the Malagasy, that " facts,
anecdotes, occurrences, metaphors, or fables, relating to or
derived from sensible and visible objects, appear to form the
basis of most of their mental exercises." And how general
is this trait of unreflectiveness among inferior races, is
implied by Dr. Pickering's statement that, in the course of
much travel, the Fijians were the only savage people he had
met with who could give reasons, and with whom it was
possible to hold a connected conversation.

§ 42. " The eccentricity of genius " is a current phrase
implying the experience that men of original powers are
prone to act in ways unlike ordinary ways. To do what the
world does, is to guide behaviour by imitation. Deviating
from ordinary usages is declining to imitate. And the
noticeable fact is that a smaller tendency to imitate goes
along with a greater tendency to evolve new ideas. Under
its converse aspect we may trace this relationship back
through early stages of civilization. There was but little
originality ill the middle ages; and there was but little
tendency to deviate from the modes of living established for
the various ranks. Still more was it so in the extinct

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — INTELLECTUAL. 81

societies of the East. Ideas were fixed; and prescription
was irresistible.

Among the partially-civilized races, we find imitativeness
a marked trait Everyone has heard of the ways in which
Negroes, when they have opportunities, dress and swagger in
grotesque mimicry of the whites. A characteristic of the
New Zealanders is an aptitude for imitation. The Dyaks,
too, show "love of imitation;" and of other Malayo-Poly-
nesians the like is alleged. Mason says that "while the
Karens originate nothing they show as great a capability to
imitate as the Chinese." We read that the Kamschadales
have a "peculiar talent of mimicking men and animals;"
that the Nootka-Sound people "are very ingenious in
imitating;" that the Mountain Snake Indians imitate animal
sounds "to the utmost perfection." South America yields
like evidence. Herndon was astonished at the mimetic
powers of the Brazilian Indians. Wilkes speaks of the
Patagonians as " admirable mimics." And DobrizhofFer joins
with his remark that the Guaranis can imitate exactly, the
further remark that they bungle stupidly if you leave any-
thing to their intelligence. But it is among the lowest races
that proneness to mimicry is most conspicuous. Several
travellers have commented on the " extraordinary tendency
to imitate " shown by the Fuegians. They will repeat with
perfect correctness each word in any sentence addressed to
them — mimicking the manner and attitude of the speaker.
So, too, according to Mouat, the Andamanese show high
imitative powers ; and, like the Fuegians, repeat a question
instead of answering it. Sturt gives a kindred account of
the South Australians, who, he says, "evinced a strange
perversity " " in repeating words " which " they knew were
meant as questions."

In this imitativeness, shown least by the highest members
of civilized races and most by the lowest savages, we see
again the antagonism between perceptive activity and reflec-
tive activity. Among inferior gregarious creatures, as rooks

G

82 TUB DATA OF SOCIOLOGY

that rise in a flock when one rises, or as sheep that follow a
leader in leaping, we see an almost automatic repetition of
actions witnessed in others ; and this peculiarity, common to
the lowest human types — this tendency to " ape " others, a*
we significantly call at — implies a smaller departure from the
brute type of mind. It shows us a mental action which is,
from moment to moment, chiefly determined by outer inci-
dents ; and is therefore but little determined by causes in-
volving excursiveness of thought, imagination, and original
idea.

§ 43. Our conception of the primitive man — intellectual,
will grow clearer when, with the above inductions, we join
illustrations of his feeble grasp of thought

Common speech fails to distinguish between mental activi-
ties of different grades. A boy is called clever who takes in
simple ideas rapidly, though he may prove incapable of
taking in complex ideas ; and a boy is condemned as stupid
because he is slow in rote-learning, though he may apprehend
abstract truths more quickly than his teacher. Contrasts of
this nature must be recognized, if we would interpret the
conflicting evidence respecting the capacities of the un-
civilized. Even of the Fuegians we read that they " are not
nsually deficient in intellect;" even the Andamanese are
described as " excessively quick and clever ; " and the Aus-
tralians are said to be as intelligent as our own peasants.
But the ability thus referred to as possessed by men of the
lowest types, is one for which the simpler faculties suffice ;
and goes along with inability when any demand is made on
the complex faculties. A passage which Sir John Lubbock
quotes from Mr. Sproat's account of the Ahts may be taken
as descriptive of the average state : —

"The native mind, to an educated man, seems generally to he
asleep. . . . On his attention being fully aroused, he often shows
much quickness in reply and ingenuity in argument But a short con-
versation wearies him, particularly if questions are asked that require

THE PRIMITIVE MAN— INTELLECTUAL. 83

efforts of thought or memory on his part The mind of the savage
then appears to rock to and fro out of mere weakness."

Spix and Martins tell us of the Brazilian Indian that
" scarcely has one begun to question him about his language,
when he grows impatient, complains of headache, and shows
that he is unable to bear the exertion ; " and according to
Mr. Bates, * it is difficult to get at their notions on subjects
that require a little abstract thought." When the Abipones
" are unable to comprehend anything at first sight, they soon
grow weary of examining it, and cry — ' What is it after all ?' "
It is the same with Negroes. Burton says of the East
Africans, " ten minutes sufficed to weary out the most intel-
lectual" when questioned about their system of numbers.
And even of so comparatively superior a race as the Malagasy,
it is remarked that they " do not seem to possess the quali-
ties of mind requisite for close and continued thought,"

On observing that to frame the idea of a species, say trout,
it is needful to think of the characters common to trout of
different sizes, and that to conceive of fish as a class, we must
imagine various kinds of fish, and see mentally the like-
nesses which unite them notwithstanding their unlikenesses ;
we perceive that, rising from the consciousness of individual
objects to the consciousness of species, and again to the con-
sciousness of genera, and orders, and classes, each further
step implies more power of mentally grouping numerous
things with approximate simultaneity. And perceiving this,
we may understand why, lacking the needful representative-
ness, the mind of the savage is soon exhausted with any
thought above the simplest Excluding those referring to
individual objects, our most familiar propositions, such even
as " Plants are green," or " Animals grow," are propositions
never definitely framed in his consciousness ; because he has
no idea of a plant or an animal, apart from kind. And of
course until he has become familiar with general ideas and
abstract ideas of the lowest grades, those a grade higher in
generality and abstractness are inconceivable by him. This

o 2

84 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

will be elucidated by an illustration taken from Mr. Galton's
account of the Damaras, showing how the concrete, made to
serve in place of the abstract as far as possible, soon fails, and
leaves the mind incapable of higher thought : —

" They puzzle very much after five [in counting], because no spare
hand remains to grasp and secure the fingers that are required for units.
Yet they seldom lose oxen ; the way in which they discover the loss of
one is not by the number of the herd being diminished, but by the
absence of a face they know. When bartering is going on, each sheep
must be paid for separately. Thus, suppose two sticks of tobacco to be
the rate of exchange for one sheep, it would sorely puzzle a Daniara to
take two sheep and give him four sticks."

This mental state is, in another direction, exemplified by
the statement of Mr. Hodgson concerning the Hill-tribes of
India. " Light," he says, " is a high abstraction which none
of my informants can grasp, though they readily give equiva-
lents for sunshine and candle or fire-flame." And Spix and
Martius further exemplify it when they say that it would be
vain to seek in the language of the Brazilian Indians " words
for the abstract ideas of plant, animal, and the still more
abstract notions, colour, tone, sex, species, etc. ; such a
generalization of ideas is found among them only in the
frequently used infinitive of the verbs to walk, to eat, to
drink, to dance, to sing, to hear, etc."

§ 44 Not until there is formed a general idea, by colli-
gating many special ideas which have a common trait amid
their differences — not until there follows the possibility of
connecting in thought this common trait with some other trait
also possessed in common, can there arise the idea of a causal
relation ; and not until many different causal relations have
been observed, can there result the conception of causal
relation in the abstract By the primitive man, therefore,
such distinction as we make between natural and unnatural
cannot be made. Just as the child, ignorant of the course of
things, gives credence to an impossible fiction as readily as
to a familiar fact ; so the savage, similarly without classified

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — INTELLECTUAL. 83

and systematized knowledge, feels no incongruity between
any absurd falsehood propounded to him and some general
truth which we class as established : there being, for him, no
such established general truth.

Hence his credulity. If the young Indian takes as his
totem, and thereafter regards as sacred, the first animal he
dreams about during a fast — if the Negro, when bent on an
important undertaking, chooses for a god to help b1Tn the first
object he sees on going out, and sacrifices to it and prays to it.
— if the Veddah, failing in a shot with his arrow, ascribes the
failure not to a bad aim but to insufficient propitiation of his
deity; we must regard the implied convictions as normal
accompaniments of a mental state in which the organization
of experiences has not gone far enough to evolve the idea of
natural causation.

§ 45. Absence of the idea of natural causation, implies
absence of rational surprise.

Until there has been reached the belief that certain con-
nexions in things are constant, there can be no astonishment
on meeting with cases seemingly at variance with this belief.
The behaviour of the uncultivated among ourselves teaches
us this. Show to a rustic a remarkable experiment, such as
the rise of liquid in a capillary tube, or the spontaneous
boiling of warm water in an exhausted receiver, and instead
of the amazement you expected he shows a vacant indif-
ference. That which struck you with wonder when first you
saw it, because apparently irreconcilable with your general
ideas of physical processes, does not seem, wonderful to him,
because he is without those general ideas. And now if we
suppose the rustic divested of what general ideas he has, and
the causes of surprise thus made still* fewer, we get the
mental state of the primitive man:

Of the lowest races, disregard of novelties is almost
uniformly alleged According to Cook, the Fuegians showed
utter indifference in presence of things that were entirely new

\

\

86 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

to them. The same voyager observed in the Australians a
like peculiarity; and Dampier says those he had on board
" did not notice anything else in the ship " than what they
had to eat. So, too, the Tasmanians were characterized by
Cook's surgeon as exhibiting no surprise. Wallis asserts of
the Patagonians, that they showed the most " unaccountable
indifference " to everything around them on shipboard ; even
the looking-glass, though it afforded great diversion, excited
no astonishment ; and Wilkes describes like conduct I also
find it stated of the village Yeddahs that two of them
u showed no surprise at a looking-glass." And of the
Samoiedes we read that "nothing but the looking-glasses
caused any surprise in them for an instant; again a moment
and this ceased to draw their attention."

§ 46. Along with absence of surprise there goes absence of
curiosity ; and where there is least faculty of thought, even
astonishment may be excited without causing inquiry.
Illustrating this trait in the Bushmen, Burchell says — "I
showed them a looking-glass; at this they laughed, and
stared with vacant surprise and wonder to see their own
faces ; but expressed not the least curiosity about it" Where
curiosity exists we find it among races of not so low a
grade. That of the New Caledonians was remarked by Cook ;
and that of the New Guinea people by Earl and by Jukes.
Still more decided is an inquiring nature among the rela-
tively-advanced- Malay o-Polynesians. According to Boyle,
the Dyaks have an insatiable curiosity. The Samoans, too,
" are usually very inquisitive ; " and the Tahitians " are
remarkably curious and inquisitive."

Evidently this absence of desire for information about new
things, which characterizes the lowest mental state, prevents
the growth of that generalized knowledge which makes rational
surprise, and consequent rational inquisitiveness, possible. If
his " want of curiosity is extreme," as Mr. Bates says of the
Cucama Indian, the implication is that he " troubles himself

THE PBIMIT1VE MAN — INTELLECTUAL. 87

very little concerning the causes of the natural phenomena
around him." Lacking ability to think, and the accom-
panying desire to know, the savage is without tendency to
speculate. Even when there is raised such a question as that
often put by Park to the Negroes — " What became of the sun
during the night, and whether we should see the same sun, or
a different one, in the morning," no reply is forthcoming.
* I found that they considered the question as very childish :
. . . they had never indulged a conjecture, nor formed any
hypothesis, about the matter."

The general fact thus exemplified is one quite at variance
with current ideas respecting the thoughts of the primitive
man. He is commonly pictured as theorizing about sur-
rounding appearances ; whereas, in fact, the need for explana-
tions of them does not occur to him.

$ 47. One more general trait must be named — I mean the
lack of constructive imagination. This lack naturally goes
along with a life of simple perception, of imitativeness, of
concrete ideas, and of incapacity for abstract ideas.

The collection of implements and weapons arranged by
General Pitt-Rivers, to show their relationships to a common
original, suggests that primitive men are not to be credited
with such inventiveness as even their simple appliances seem
to indicate. These have arisen by small modifications ; and
the natural selection of such modifications has led unobtru-
sively to various kinds of appliances, without any distinct
devising of them.

Evidence of another kind, but of like meaning, is furnished
by Sir Samuel Baker's paper on the "Races of the Kile
liasm," in which he points out that the huts of the respective
tribes are as constant in their types as are the nests of birds :
each tribe of the one, like each species of the other, having a
peculiarity. The like permanent differences he says hold
among their head-dresses; and he further asserts of head-
dresses, as of huts, that they have diverged from one another

88 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

in proportion as the languages have diverged- All which
facts show us that in these races the thoughts, restrained
within narrow established courses, have not the freedom
required for entering into new combinations, and so initiating
new modes of action and new forms of product

Where we find ingenuity ascribed, it is to races such as the
Tahitians, Javans, etc., who have risen some stages in civili-
zation, who have considerable stocks of abstract words and
ideas, who show rational surprise and curiosity, and who thus
evince higher intellectual development

§ 48. Here we come to a general truth allied to those with
which, in the two foregoing chapters, I have preluded the
summaries of results — the truth that the primitive intellect
develops rapidly, and early reaches its limit

In the Principles of Psychology, § 165, I have shown that
the children of Australians, of Negroes in the United States,
of Negroes on the Nile, of Andamanese, of New Zealanders,
of Sandwich Islanders, are quicker than European children in
acquiring simple ideas, but presently stop short from inability
to grasp the complex ideas readily grasped by European
children, when they arrive at them. To testimonies before
quoted I may add the remark of Mr. Beade, that in Equa-
torial Africa the children are "absurdly precocious;" the
statement of Captain Burton, that " the negro child, like the
East Indian, is much ' sharper ' than the European . . .
at the age of puberty this precocity . . . disappears ;" and
the description of the Aleuts of Alaska, who " up to a certain
point are readily taught" This early cessation of develop-
ment implies both low intellectual nature and a great
impediment to intellectual advance ; since it makes the
larger part#of life unmodifiable by further experiences. On
reading of the East African, that he " unites the incapacity
of infancy with the unpliancy of age," and of the Australians
that " after twenty their mental vigour seems to decline, and

THE PRIMITIVE MAN — INTELLECTUAL. 89

at the age of forty seems nearly extinct ; " we cannot fail to
see how greatly this arrest of mental evolution hinders
improvement where improvement is most required.

The intellectual traits of the uncivilized, thus made
specially difficult to change, may now be recapitulated while
observing that they are traits recurring in the children
of the civilized

Infancy shows us an absorption in sensations and percep-
tions akin to that which characterizes the savage. In pulling
to pieces its toys, in making mud-pies, in gazing at each new
thing or person, the child exhibits great tendency to observe
with little tendency to reflect There is, again, an

obvious parallelism in the mimetic propensity. Children are
ever dramatizing the lives of adults ; and savages, along with
their other mimicries, similarly dramatize the actions of their
civilized visitors. Want of power to discriminate

between useless and useful facts, characterizes the juvenile
mind, as it does the mind of the primitive man. This
inability to select nutritive facts necessarily accompanies
low development ; since, until generalization has made some
progress, and the habit of generalizing has become established,
there cannot be reached the conception that a fact has
a remote value apart from any immediate value it may
have. Again, we see in the young of our own race

a similar inability to concentrate the attention on anything
complex or abstract. The mind of the child, as well as that
of the savage, soon wanders from sheer exhaustion when
generalities and involved propositions have to be dealt
with. From feebleness of the higher intellectual

faculties comes, in both cases, an absence, or a paucity,
of ideas grasped by those faculties. The child, like the
savage, has few words of even a low grade of abstractedness,
and none of a higher grade. For a long time it is familiar
with cat, dog, horse, cow, but has no conception of
animal apart from kind; and years elapse before words

90 TUB DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

ending in ion and ity occur in its vocabulary. Thus, in
both cases, the very implements of developed thought are
wanting. Unsupplied as its mind is with general

truths, and with the conception of natural order, the civilized
child when quite young, like the savage throughout life,
shows but little rational surprise or rational curiosity.
Something startling to the senses makes it stare vacantly, or
perhaps cry ; but let it see a chemical experiment, or draw
its attention to the behaviour of a gyroscope, and its interest
is like that shown in a commonplace new toy. After a time,
indeed, when the higher intellectual powers it inherits ate
beginning to act, and when its stage of mental development
represents that of such semi-civilized races as the Malayo-
Polynesians, rational surprise and rational curiosity about
causes, begin to show themselves. But even then its extreme
credulity, like that of the savage, shows us the result of
Undeveloped ideas of causation and law. Any story, however
monstrous, is believed ; and any explanation, however absurd,
is accepted.

And here, in final elucidation of these intellectual traits of
the primitive man, let me point out that, like the emotional
traits, they could not be other than they are in the absence
of the conditions brought about by social evolution. In
the Principles of Psychology, §§ 484—493, it was shown in
various ways that only as societies grow, become organized,
and gain stability, do there arise those experiences by assimi-
lating which the powers of thought develop. It needs but
to ask what would happen to ourselves were the whole mass
of existing knowledge obliterated, and were children with
nothing beyond their nursery-language left to grow up with-
out guidance or instruction from adults, to perceive that even
now the higher intellectual faculties would be almost inope-
rative, from lack of the materials and aids accumulated by
past civilization. And seeing this, we cannot fail to see that
development of the higher intellectual faculties has gone on

THE PRIMITIVE MAN— INTELLECTUAL. 91

pari passu with social advance, alike as cause and conse-
quence; that the primitive man could not evolve these
higher intellectual faculties in the absence of a fit environ-
ment ; and that in this, as in other respects, his progress was
retarded by the absence of capacities which only progress
could bring.

CHAPTEK VIII.

PRIMITIVE IDEAS.

§ 49. Yet a further preparation for interpreting social
phenomena is needed. It is not enough that we should
acquaint ourselves, first with the external factors, and then
with those internal factors treated of in the foregoing three
chapters. The behaviour of the social unit as exposed to
environing conditions — inorganic, organic, and super-organic
— depends in part on certain additional traits. Beyond
those visible specialities of organization which the body
displays, and beyond those hidden specialities of organiza-
tion implied by the mental type, there are those specialities,
still less traceable, implied by the acquired beliefs. As
accumulated ancestral experiences, moulding the nervous
structures, produce the mental powers; so personal ex-
periences, daily elaborated into thoughts, cause small modi-
fications of these structures and powers. A complete account
of the original social unit must include these modifications —
or rather, must include the correlative ideas implying them.
For, manifestly, the ideas he forms of himself of other
beings and of the surrounding world, greatly affect his
conduct.

A description of these final modifications, or of the corre-
sponding ideas, is difficult to give. Obstacles stand in the

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 93

way alike of inductive interpretation and deductive inter-
pretation. We must first glance at these,

§ 50. To determine what conceptions are truly primitive
would be easy if we had accounts of truly primitive men.
But there are reasons for suspecting that men of the lowest
types now known, forming social groups of the simplest
kinds, do not exemplify men as they originally were. Pro-
bably most of them had ancestors in higher states ; and
among their beliefs remain some which were evolved during
those higher states. While the current degradation theory
is untenable, the theory of progression, in its ordinary form,
seems to me untenable also. If, on the one hand, the notion
that savagery is caused by lapse from civilization, is irre-
concilable with the evidence ; there is, on the other hand,
inadequate warrant for the notion that the lowest savagery
has never been any higher than it is now. It is possible,
and, I believe, probable, that retrogression has been as
frequent as progression.

Evolution is commonly conceived to imply in everything
an intrinsic tendency to become something higher. This
is an erroneous conception of it. In all cases it is deter*
mined by the co-operation of inner and outer factors. This
co-operation works changes until there is reached an equi-
librium between the environing actions and the actions
which the aggregate opposes to them — a complete equi-
librium if the aggregate is without life, and a moving
equilibrium if the aggregate is living. Thereupon evolution,
continuing to show itself only in the progressing integration
that ends in rigidity, practically ceases. If, in the case of
the living aggregates forming a species, the environing
actions remain constant, the species remains constant. If
the environing actions change, the species changes until it
re-equilibriates itself with them. But it by no means follows
that this change constitutes a step in evolution. Usually
neither advance nor recession results; and often, certain

94 TIIE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

previously-acquired structures being rendered superfluous,
there results a simpler form. Only now and then does the
environing change initiate in the organism a new complica-
tion, and so produce a somewhat higher structure. Hence
the truth that while for immeasurable periods some types
have not sensibly altered, and while in other types there has
been further evolution, there are many types in which
retrogression has happened, J do not refer merely to such
facts as that the highest orders of reptiles, the Pterosawria
and Dinosauria, which once had many genera superior in
structure and gigantic in size, have become extinct, while
lower orders of reptiles have survived; or to such facts as
that in many genera of mammals there once existed species
larger than any of their allies existing now; but I refer
more especially to the fact that of parasitic creatures in-
numerable kinds are degraded modifications of higher
creatures. Of all existing species of animals, if we include
parasites, the greater number have retrograded from struc-
tures to which their ancestors had once advanced. Indeed,
progression in some types often involves retrogression in
others. For the more evolved type, conquering by the aid
of its acquired superiority, habitually drives competing types
into inferior habitats and less profitable modes of life:
usually implying disuse and decay of their higher powers.

As with organic evolution, so with super-organic evolu-
tion. Though, taking the entire assemblage of societies,
evolution may be held inevitable as an ultimate effect of
the co-operating factors, intrinsic and extrinsic, acting on
them all through indefinite periods; yet it cannot be held
inevitable in each particular society, or even probable. A
social organism, like an individual organism, undergoes
modifications until it comes into equilibrium with environing
conditions ; and thereupon continues without further change
of structure. When the conditions are changed meteorologi-
cally, or geologically, or by alterations in the Flora and
Fauna, or by migration consequent on pressure of popula-

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 95

tion, or by flight before usurping races, some change of
social structure results. But this change does not necessarily
imply advance. Often it is towards neither a higher nor
a lower structure. Where the habitat entails modes of life
that are inferior, degradation follows. Only occasionally
does the new combination of factors produce a change
constituting a step in social evolution, and initiating a social
type which spreads and supplants inferior social types. And
with these super-organic aggregates, as with the organic
aggregates, progression in some causes retrogression in others.
The more-evolved societies drive the less-evolved societies
into unfavourable habitats; and so entail on them decrease
of size, or decay of structure, or both.

Direct evidence forces this conclusion upon us. Lapse
from higher civilization to lower civilization, made familiar
during school-days, is further exemplified as our knowledge
widens. Egyptians, Babylonians, Assyrians, Phoenicians,
Persians, Jews, Greeks, Bomans — it needs but to name
these to be reminded that many large and highly-evolved
societies have either disappeared, or. have dwindled to bar-
barous hordes, or have been long passing through slow
decay. Ruins show us that in Java there existed in the
past a more-developed society than exists now ; and the like
is shown by ruius in Cambodia. Peru and Mexico were
once the seats of societies large and elaborately organized,
which have been disorganized by conquest; and where the
cities of Central America once contained great populations
carrying on various industries and arts, there are now but
scattered tribes of savages. Unquestionably, causes like
those which produced these retrogressions, have been at
work during the whole period of human existence. Always
there have been cosmical and terrestrial changes going
on, which, bettering some habitats, have made others worse ;
always there have been over-populations, spreadings of
tribes, conflicts with other tribes, and escape of the defeated
into localities unfit for such advanced social life as they

96 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

had reached ; always, where evolution has been unintcrfercd
with externally, there have been those decays and dis-
solutions which complete the cycles of social changes.
And the implication is that remnants of inferior races,
taking refuge in inclement, barren, or otherwise unfit regions,
have retrograded.

Probably, then, most of the tribes known as lowest, exhibit
some social phenomena which are due, not to causes now
operating, but to causes that operated during past social
states higher than the present. This a priori conclusion
harmonizes with the facts ; and, indeed, is suggested by facts
otherwise inexplicable. Take, for example, some furnished
by the Australians. Divided into tribes wandering over a
wide area, these savages have, notwithstanding their antago-
nisms, a complex system of relationships, and consequent
interdicts on marriage, which could not possibly have been
framed by any agreement among them as they now exist ;
but which are comprehensible as having survived from a state
in which there was closer union, and subordination to some
common rule. Such, also, is the implication of the circum-
cision, and the knocking-out of teeth, which we find among
them. For when we come hereafter to deal with bodily
mutilations, we shall see that they all imply a subordination,
political, or ecclesiastical, or both, such as these races do not
now exhibit.

Hence, then, a difficulty in ascertaining inductively what
are primitive ideas. Of the ideas current among men now
forming the rudest societies, there are most likely some which
have descended by tradition from higher states. These have
to be discriminated from truly primitive ideas ; so that simple
induction does not suffice.

§ 51. To the deductive method there are obstacles of
another kind but equally great Comprehension of the
thoughts generated in the primitive man by converse with
the surrounding world, can be had only by looking at the

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 97

surrounding world from his stand-point The accumulated
knowledge acquired during education, must be suppressed ;
«nd we must divest ourselves of conceptions which, partly by
inheritance and partly by individual culture, have been firmly
established. None can do this completely, and few can do it
even partially.

It needs but to observe what unfit methods are used by
teachers, to be convinced that even among the disciplined
the power to frame thoughts which are widely unlike their
own, is very small When we see the juvenile mind plied
with generalities before it has any of the concrete facts to
which they refer — when we see mathematics introduced
under the purely rational form, instead of under that empiri-
cal form with which it should be commenced by the child, as
it was commenced by the race — when we see a subject so
abstract as grammar put among the first instead of among
the last, and see it taught analytically instead of syntheti-
cally ; we have ample evidence of the prevailing inability to
conceive the ideas of undeveloped minds. And if, though
lately children themselves, men find it hard to re-think the
thoughts of the child; still harder must they find it to
re-think the thoughts of the savage. To keep out auto-
morphic interpretations is beyond our power. To look at
things with the eyes of absolute ignorance, and observe
how their attributes and actions originally grouped them-
selves in the mind, implies a self-suppression that is im-
practicable.

Nevertheless, we must here do our best to conceive the
surrounding world as it appeared to the primitive man ; that'
we may be able the better to interpret deductively the evi-
dence available for induction. And though we are incapable '
of reaching the conception by a direct process, we may
approach to it by an indirect process. The doctrine of evolu-
tion will help us to delineate primitive ideas in some of their
leading traits. Having inferred, a priori, the characters of
those ideas, we shall be as far as possible prepared to realize

H

98 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

them in imagination, and then to discern them as actually
existing.

§ 52. Our postulate must be that primitive ideas are
natural, and, under the conditions in which they occur,
rational. In early life we have been taught that human
nature is everywhere the same. Led thus to contemplate the
beliefs of savages as beliefs entertained by minds like our
own, we marvel at their strangeness, and ascribe perversity
to those who hold them. This error we must replace by the
truth that the laws of thought are everywhere the same ; and
that, given the data as known to him, the primitive man's
inference is the reasonable inference.

From its lowest to its highest grades, intelligence proceeds
by the classing of objects and the classing of relations ;
which are, in fact, different aspects of the same process.
(Principles of Psychology, §§ 309—316, § 381.) On the one
hand, perception of an object implies that its attributes are
severally classed with like before-known attributes, and the
relations in which they stand to one another with like before-
known relations ; while the object itself, in being known, is
classed with its like as such or such. On the other hand,
every step in reasoning implies that the object of which any-
thing is predicated, is classed with objects previously known
of like kind ; implies that the attribute, power, or act, predi-
cated, is classed as like other previously-known attributes,
powers, or acts ; and implies that the relation between the
object and this predicated attribute, power, or act, is classed
with previously-known like relations. This assimilation of
states of consciousness of all orders with their likes in past
experience, which is the universal intellectual process, animal
and human, leads to results that are correct in proportion
to the power of appreciating likenesses and unlikenesses.
Where simple terms stand in relations that are simple, direct,
and close, the classing can be rightly carried on by simple
minds ; but in proportion as the terms are complex and the

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 99

relations between them involved, indirect, remote, the classing
can be rightly carried on only by minds developed to a corre-
sponding complexity. In the absence of this corresponding
complexity, the terms of relations are grouped with those
which they conspicuously resemble, and the relations them-
selves are grouped in like manner. But this leads to error ;
since the most obvious traits are not always those by which
things are really allied to one another, and the most obvious
characters of relations are not always their essential charac-
ters.

Let us observe a few of the common mistakes thus caused.
In old works on natural history, whales - are called fishes :
living in the water, and fish-like in shape, what else should
they be ? Nine out of ten cabin-passengers, and ninety-nine
out of a hundred of those in the steerage, would be araazeu
were you to tell them that the porpoises playing about the
steamer's bow, are nearer akin to dogs than to cod. Take,
again, the name shell-fish, as popularly used. In the first
place, there is supposed to be some alliance between shell-fish
and fish proper, because both are aquatic. In the second
place, the fishmonger includes under shell-fish both oysters
and crabs : these, though far more remote in type than an eel
is from a man, having in common the character that their
softer parts are inclosed in hard cases. After re-

minding ourselves of these mistakes to which classing by
obvious characters leads our own people, we shall see how
natural are the mistakes into which uncivilized men are
similarly led. Hayes could not make the Esquimaux under-
stand that woollen cloth was not a skin. "Glass" they
" took for ice, and biscuit for the dried flesh of the musk-ox."
Having so small an acquaintance with things, these were the
moat rational groupings they could make— quite as rational
as those above instanced. If his erroneous classing led the
Esquimaux to the erroneous inference that glass would melt
in his mouth, this was not more erroneous than that of the
ship-passenger who, instead of what he looked tor, would find

H 2

100 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

in the porpoise hot blood, and lungs to breathe air with. So,
too, remembering that they had no experiences of metals, we
shall see nothing irrational in the question put to Jackson by
the Fijians — " how we could get axes hard enough in a natural
country, to cut down the trees which the barrels of muskets
were made of." For were not tubular canes the only objects
to which musket barrels bore any resemblance ? When,
again, certain Hill-people with whom Dr. Hooker came in
contact, saw thrown on the ground a spring-box measuring-
tape, that had just been extended for use, and when, seeing
the coils of tape disappearing into the box they ran away
shrieking, it is manifest that the tape was considered in
virtue of its spontaneous movement as something alive, and
in virtue of its shape and behaviour as some kind of snake.
Without knowledge of mechanical contrivances, and seeing
nothing of the internal spring, this belief was perfectly natural
— any other would have been irrational. Turn, now,

from the classing of objects to the classing of. relations.
We may again aid ourselves by analyzing some errors current
in our own society. It is a common recommendation of some
remedy for a burn, that it « draws the fire out : " the implica-
tion being that between the thing applied and the heat sup-
posed to be lodged in the tissues, there is a connection like
that between some object and another which it pulls. Again,
after a long frost, when air highly charged with water comes
in contact with a cold smooth surface, such as that of a
painted wall, the water condensed on it collects in drops and
trickles down; whereupon may be heard the remark that
* the wall sweats." Because the water, not visibly brought
from elsewhere, makes its appearance on the wall as perspira-
tion does on the skin, it is assumed to come out of the wall
as perspiration does out of the skin. Here, as before, we see
a relation classed with another which it superficially re-
sembles, but from which it is entirely alien. If, now, we
consider what must happen where ignorance is still greater,
we shall no longer be astonished at primitive interpretations.

PRIMmVB IDEAS. 101

The Orinoco Indians think that dew is * the spittle of the
stars." Observe the genesis of this belief Dew is a clear
liquid to which saliva has some resemblance. It is a liquid
which, lying on leaves, eta, seems to have descended from
above, as saliva descends from the month of one who spits.
Having descended during a* cloudless night, it must have
come from the only things then visible above ; namely, the
stars. Thus the product itself, dew, and the relation between
it and its supposed source, are respectively assimilated with
those like them in obvious characters ; and we need but recall
our own common expression " it spits with rain," to see how
natural is the interpretation.

Another trait of savage conceptions is explicable in a
kindred way. Only acknowledge advances and observation
becomes critical, does there grow up the idea that the power
of any agent to produce its peculiar effect, may depend on
some one property to the* exclusion of the rest, or on some
one part to the exclusion of the rest, or not on one or more of
the properties or parts but on the arrangement of them.
What character it is in a complex whole which determines
its efficiency, can be known only after analysis has advanced
somewhat ; and until then, the efficiency is necessarily con-
ceived as belonging to the whole indiscriminately. Further,
this unanalyzed whole is conceived as standing towards some
unanalyzed effect, in some relation that is unanalyzed. This
trait of primitive thought is so pregnant of results, that we must
consider it more closely. Let us symbolize the several

attributes of an object say brsea-shell, by A> B, C, D, E, and
the relations among them by iv, x, y, z. ■'■ The ability of this
object to concentrate sound on the ear, is due in part to the
smoothness of its internal surface (Which we will express
by C), and in part to those relations among the portions of
this surface constituting its shape (which we will symbolize
by y). Now, that the ability of the shell to produce a hissing
murmur when held to the ear, may be understood as thus
resulting, it is needful that C and yj should be separated

102 TnE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

in thought from the rest Until this can be done, the
sound-multiplying power of the shell cannot be known not
to depend on its colour, or hardness, or roughness (supposing
these to be separately thinkable as attributes). Evidently,
before attributes are distinguished, this power of the shell
can be thought of only as belonging to it generally — residing
in it as a whole. But, as we have seen (§ 40), attributes or
properties, as we understand them, are not recognizable by
the savage — are abstractions which neither his faculties can
grasp nor his language express. Thus, of necessity, he
associates this strange murmuring with the shell bodily —
regards it as related to the shell as weight is related to a
stone. Hence certain beliefs, everywhere con-

spicuous among the uncivilized. A special potency which
some object or part of an object displays, belongs to it in
such wise that it may be acquired by consuming or possessing
this object or part The powers of a conquered antagonist
are supposed to be gained by devouring him. The Dakotah
eats the heart of a slain foe to increase his own courage ;
the New Zealander swallows his dead enemy's eyes that
he may see the further; the Abipone consumes tiger's flesh,
thinking so to gain the tiger's strength and ferocity : cases
which recall the legend about Zeus devouring Metis that he
might become possessed of her wisdom. The like trait is seen
in such beliefs as that of the Ouaranis, whose ''pregnant
women abstained from eating the flesh of the Anta, lest the
child should have a large nose ; and from small birds, lest it
should prove diminutive ; " or again, in such beliefs as that
which led the Caribs to sprinkle a male infant with his
father's blood to give him his father s courage ; or again, in
such beliefs as that of the Bulloms, who hold that possessing
part of a successful person's body, gives them " a portion of
his good fortune." Clearly the implied mode of thought,
shown even in the medical prescriptions of past ages, and
continuing down to recent days in the notion that character
is absorbed with mother's milk, is a mode of thought

rmMITIYB IDEAS, 103

necessarily persisting until analysis has disclosed the com-
plexities of causal relations.

While physical conceptions are few and vague, any ante-
cedent serves to account for any consequent Ask a quarry-
man what he thinks of the fossils his pick-axe is exposing,
and he will tell you they are "sports of nature:" the
tendency of his thought to pass from the existence of the
fossils as an effect, to some agent as cause, is satisfied, and
his curiosity ceases. The plumber, cross-examined about the
working of the pump he is repairing, says that the water
rises in it by suction. Having classed the process with one
which he can perform by the muscular actions of his mouth
applied to a tube, he thinks he understands it — never asks
what force makes the water rise towards his mouth when he
performs these muscular actions. Similarly with an explana-
tion of some unfamiliar fact which you may often hear in
cultivated society — " it is caused by electricity." The mental
tension is sufficiently relieved when, to the observed result,
there is joined in thought this something with a name;
though there is no notion what the something really is, nor
the remotest idea how the result can be wrought by it
Having such illustrations furnished by those around us, we
shall have no difficulty in seeing how the savage, with fewer
experiences more vaguely grouped, adopts, as quite adequate,
the first explanation which familiar associations suggest. If
Siberian tribes, finding mammoths imbedded in ice and the
bones of mammoths in the ground, ascribe earthquakes to the
burrowing of these huge beasts ; or if savages living near
volcanoes, think of them as fires lighted by some of their
ancestors to cook by ; they do but illustrate in a more marked
way, the common readiness to fill up the missing term of a
causal relation by the first agency which occurs to the
mind. Further, it is observable that proximate

interpretations suffice — there is no tendency to ask for any-
thing beyond them. The Africans who denied the alleged
obligations to God, by saying that " the earth, and not God,

104 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

gave them gold, which was dug out of its bowels ; that the
earth yielded them maize and rice; . . . that for fruits
they were obliged to the Portuguese, who had planted the
trees;" and so on; show us that a relation between the last
consequent and its immediate- antecedent having been estab-
lished, nothing further happens; There is not enough mental
excursiveness to raise at question respecting any remoter
antecedent.

One other trait, consequent on the foregoing traits, should
be added. There result conceptions that are inconsistent and
confused. Certain fundamental ideas as found among the
Iroquois, are described by Morgan as " vague and diversified ;"
as found among the Creeks, are characterized by Schoolcraft
as " confused and irregular ;" as found among the Karens, are
said by Mason to be " confused, indefinite, and contradictory."
Everywhere occur gross inconsistencies which arise from
leaving propositions uncompared; as when, in almost the
same breath, a Malagasy " will express his belief that when
he dies he ceases altogether to exist, . . . and yet confess
the fact that he is in the habit of praying to his ancestors" —
a special inconsistency occurring among many peoples. How
illogicalities so extreme are possible, we shall the more easily
see on recalling certain of our own illogicalities. Instance
the popular notion that killing a mad dog preserves from
harm a person just bitten by it) or instance that familiar
absurdity fallen into by believers in ghosts, who, admitting
that ghosts are seen clothed, admit, by implication, that coats
have ghosts — an implication.they had not perceived. Among
men of low type,, then,, far more ignorant and with less
capacity for thought, we must expect to find a chaos of
notions, and a ready acceptance of doctrines which are ludi-
crously incongruous.

And now we have prepared ourselves, so far as may be, for
understanding primitive ideas. "We have seen that a true
interpretation of these must be one which recognizes their
naturalness under the conditions. The mind of the savage,

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 105

like the mind of the civilized, proceeds by classing objects
and relations with their likes in past experience. In the
absence of adequate mental power, there result simple and
vague classings of objects by conspicuous likenesses, and of
actions by conspicuous likenesses; and hence come crude
notions, too simple and too few in their kinds, to represent
the facts. Further, these crude notions are inevitably
inconsistent to an extreme degree. Let us now glance at the
sets of ideas thus formed and thus characterized.

§ 53. In the sky, clear a few moments ago, the savage sees
a fragment of cloud which grows while he gazes. At
another time, watching one of these moving masses, he
observes shreds of it drift away and vanish ; and presently
the whole disappears. What thought results in him? He
knows nothing about precipitation of vapour and dissolution of
vapour ; nor has there been any one to stop his inquiry by the
reply — " It is only a cloud." Something he could not before
see has become visible ; and something just now visible has
vanished. The whence, and the where, and the why, he
cannot tell ; but there is the fact

In this same space above him occur other changes. As
day declines bright points here and there show themselves,
becoming clearer and more numerous as darkness increases ;
and then at dawn they fade gradually, until not one is left.
Differing from clouds utterly in size, form, colour, etc. ;
differing also as continually re-appearing in something like
the same places, in the same relative positions, and in moving
but very slowly always in the same way ; they are yet like
them in becoming now visible and now invisible. That
feeble lights may be wholly obscured by a bright light, and
that the stars are shining during the day though he does not
see them, are facts beyond the imagination of the savage.
The truth, as he perceives it, is that these existences now show
themselves and now are hidden.

Utterly unlike clouds and stars in their aspects as Sun

106 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

and Moon are, they show, in common with them, this same
alternation of visibility with invisibility. The Sun rises on
the other side of the mountains ; from time to time covered
by a cloud presently comes out again ; and at length hides
below the level of the sea. The Moon, besides doing the like,
first increases slowly night after night, and then wanes : by
and by re-appearing as a thin bright streak, with the rest of
her disc so faintly perceptible as to seem only half existing.

Added to these commonest and most regular occultations
and manifestations, are various others, even more striking —
comets, meteors, and the aurora with its arch and pulsating
streams ; flashes of lightning, rainbows, halos. Differing from
the rest and from one another as these do, they similarly
appear and disappear. So that by a being absolutely ignorant
but able to remember, and to group the things he remembers,
the heavens must be regarded as a scene of arrivals and
departures of many kinds of existences ; some gradual, some
sudden, but alike in this, that it is impossible to say whence
the existences come or whither they go.

Not the sky only, but also the Earth's surface, supplies
various instances of these disappearances of things which
have unaccountably appeared. Now the savage sees little
pools of water formed by the rain drops coming from a source
he cannot reach ; and now, in a few hours, the gathered liquid
has made itself invisible. Here, again, is a fog — perhaps lying
isolated in a hollow, perhaps enwrapping everything — which
came a while since, and presently goes without leaving a trace
of its whereabouts. Afar off is perceived water — obviously a
great lake ; but on approaching it the seeming lake recedes,
and cannot be found. In the desert, what we know as sand-
whirlwinds, and on the sea what we know as water-spouts, are
to the primitive man moving things which come out of
nothing and then vanish into nothing. Looking over the
ocean he recognizes an island known to be a long way off,
and commonly invisible, but which has now risen from the
water ; and to-morrow, he observes, unsupported in space, an

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 107

inverted figure of a boat, perhaps by itself, or perhaps joined
to an erect figure above. In one place he sometimes
perceives land-objects on the surface of the sea, or in the air
over it — a fata morgana ; and in another, opposite to him on
the mist, there occasionally comes into view a gigantic
duplicate of himself — "a Brocken spectre." These occur-
rences, some familiar and some unfamiliar, repeat the same
experience — show transitions between the visible and the
invisible.

Once more, let us ask what must be the original concep-
tion of wind. Nothing in early experiences yields the idea
of air, as we are now familiar with it ; and, indeed, most can
recall the difficulty they once had in thinking of the sur-
rounding medium as a material substance. The primitive
man cannot regard it as a something which acts as do the
things he sees and handles. Into this seemingly-empty space
on all sides, there from time to time comes an invisible agent
which bends the trees, drives along the leaves, disturbs the
water; and which he feels moving his hair, fanning his
cheek, and now and then pushing his body with a force he
has some difficulty in overcoming. What may be the nature
of this agent there is nothing to tell him ; but one thing is
irresistibly thrust on his consciousness— that sounds are
made, things about him are moved, and he himself is buf-
feted, by an existence he can neither grasp nor see.

What primitive ideas arise out of these experiences de-
rived from the inorganic world? In the absence of hypo-
thesis (which is foreign to thought in its earliest stages),
what mental association do these occurrences, some at long
intervals, some daily, some hourly, some from minute to
minute, tend to establish ? They present, under many forms,
the relation between a perceptible and an imperceptible mode
of existence. In what way does the savage think of this
relation ? He cannot think of it in terms of dissipation into
vapour and condensation from it, nor in terms of optical
relations producing illusions, nor in any terms of physical

108 TIIE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

science. How, then, does he formulate it? A clue to the
answer will be furnished by recalling certain remarks of
young children. When an image from the magic lantern
thrown on a screen, suddenly disappears on withdrawal of the
slide, or when the reflection from a looking-glass, cast for a
child's amusement on the wall or ceiling, is made to vanish
by changing the attitude of the glass, the child asks — " Where
is it gone to ? " The notion arising in its mind is, not that
this something no longer seen has become non-existent, but
that it has become non-apparent ; and it is led to think this
by daily observing persons disappear behind adjacent objects,
by watching while things are put out of sight, and by now
and again finding a toy that had been hidden or lost Simi-
larly, the primitive idea is, that these various entities now
manifest themselves and now conceal themselves. As the
animal which he has wounded hides itself in the brushwood*
and, if it cannot be found, is supposed by the savage to have
escaped in some incomprehensible way, but to be still
existing; so, in the absence of accumulated and organized
knowledge, the implication of all these experiences is, that
many of the things above and around pass often from
visibility to invisibility, and conversely. Bearing in mind
how the actions of wind prove that there is an invisible
form of existence which possesses power, we shall see this
belief to be plausible.

It remains only to point out that along with this concep-
tion of a visible condition and an invisible condition, which
each of these many things has, there comes the conception of
duality. Each of them is in a sense double ; since it has
these two complementary modes of being.

§ 54. Significant facts of another order may next be noted —
facts impressing the primitive man with the belief that things
are transmutable from one kind of substance into another. I
refer to the facts forced on his attention by imbedded remains
of animals and plants.

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 109

While gathering food on the sea-shore, he finds, protruding
from a rock, a shell, which, if not of the same shape as the
shells he picks up, is so similar that he naturally classes it
with them. But instead of being loose, it is part of a solid
block ; and on breaking it off, he finds its inside as hard as
its matrix. Here, then, are two kindred forms, one of which
consists of shell and flesh, and the other of shell and stone.
Near at hand, in the mass of clay cUbris detached from an
adjacent cliff, he picks up a fossil ammonite. Perhaps, like
the Cfryphcea just examinedl it has a shelly coating with a
stony inside. Perhaps, as happens with some liassic ammo-
nites of which the shell has been dissolved away, leaving the
masses of indurated clay that filled its chambers locked
loosely together, it suggests a series of articulated vertebras
coiled up ; or, as with other liassic ammonites of which the
shell has been replaced by iron pyrites, it has a glistening
appearance like that of a snake's skin. As such fossils are
sometimes called " snake-stones," and are, in Ireland, supposed
to be the serpents St Patrick banished, we cannot wonder if
the uncritical savage, classing this object with those it most
resembles, thinks it a transmuted snake — once flesh and now
scone. In another place, where a gully has been cut through
sandstone by a stream, he observes on the surface of a slab
the outline of .a fish, and, looking closely, sees scales and the
traces of fins ; and elsewhere, similarly imbedded in rock, he
finds bones not unlike those of the animals he kills for food :
some of them, indeed, not unlike those of men.

Still more suggestive are the fossil plants occasionally dis-
covered. I do not refer so much to the prints of leaves in
shale, and the stony stems found in strata accompanying
coal I refer, more especially, to the silicified trees here and
there met with. Retaining, not their general forms only but
their minute structures, so that the annual growths are
marked by rings of colour such as mark them in living stems,
these yield the savage clear evidence of transmutation. With
all our knowledge it remains difficult to understand how

110 THE DATA OF 80CIOLOGY.

silica can so replace the components of the wood as to pre-
serve the appearance thus perfectly; and for the primitive
man, knowing nothing of molecular action and unable to
conceive a process of substitution, there is no possible thought
but that the wood is changed into stone.*

Thus, if we ignore those conceptions of physical causation
which have arisen only as experiences have been slowly
organized during civilization, we shall see that in their
absence there would be nothing to prevent us from putting
on these facts the interpretations which the primitive man
puts on them. Looking at the evidence through his eyes, we
find his belief that things change from one kind of substance
to another, to be the inevitable belief.

And here let us not omit to note that along with the notion
of transmutation is involved the notion of duality. These
things have obviously two states of existence.

§ 55. Did we not thoughtlessly assume that truths made
obvious by culture are naturally obvious, we should see that
an unlimited belief in change of shape, as well as in change
of substance, is one which the savage cannot avoid. From
early childhood we hear remarks implying that certain trans-
formations which living things undergo are matters of course,
while other transformations are impossible. This distinction
we suppose to have been manifest at the outset But at the
outset, the observed metamorphoses suggest that any meta-
morphosis may occur.

Consider the immense contrast in form as in texture

• Let me here give an instance of the way in which facts of this kind
may affect men's beliefs. In his Two Fear* in a Levantine Family, Mr. St.
John, commenting on the extreme credulity of the Egyptians, names, in
illustration, a report which was spread and widely credited that certain
villagers had been turned into stones. Belief of this report seems, to us,
astonishing j but it seems less astonishing when all the circumstances are
known. Not many miles from Cairo there exists an extensive ailicified
forest — stumps and prone trunks in great numbers. If trees can be turned
into stones, why not men 9 To the unscientific, one event looks just as likely
as the other.

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. Ill

between the seed and the plant. Look at this nut with hard
brown shell and white kernel, and ask what basis there is for
the expectation that from it will presently come a soft shoot
and green leaves. When young we are told that the one
grows into the other; and the blank form of explanation
being thus filled up, we cease to wonder and inquire. Yet it
needs but to consider what thought would have arisen had
there been no one to give this mere verbal solution, to see
that the thought would have been — transformation. Apart
from hypothesis, the bare fact is that a thing having One size,
shape, and colour, becomes a thing having an utterly different
size, shape, and colour.

Similarly with the eggs of birds. A few days since this
nest contained five rounded, smooth, speckled bodies ; and now
in place of them are as many chicks gaping for food. We are
brought up to the idea that the eggs have been hatched ; and
with this semblance of interpretation we are content.
This extreme change in visible and tangible characters being
recognized as one constantly occurring in the order of nature,
is therefore regarded as not remarkable. But to a mind
occupied by no generalized experiences of its own or of
others, there would seem nothing more strange in the pro-
duction of chicks from nuts than in the production of chicks
from eggs : a metamorphosis of the kind we think impossible,
would stand on the same footing as one which familiarity has
made us think natural. Indeed, on remembering that there
still survives, or till lately survived, the belief that barnacle-
geese arise from barnacles — on learning that in the early
Transactions of the Boyal Society, there is a paper describing
a barnacle as showing traces of the young bird it is about to
produce ; it will be seen that only by advanced science has
there been discriminated the natural organic transformations,
from transformations which to ignorance seem just as likely.

The insect-world yields instances of metamorphoses even
more misleading. To a branch above his wigwam, the savage
saw a few days ago, a caterpillar hanging with its head down-

112 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

wards. Now in the same place hangs a differently formed
and coloured thing — a chrysalis. A fortnight after there
comes out a butterfly : leaving a thin empty case. These
insect-metamorphoses, as we call them, which we now
interpret as processes of evolution presenting certain defi-
nitely-marked stages, are in the eyes of the primitive man,
metamorphoses in the original sense. He accepts them as
actual changes of one thing into another thing utterly
unlike it.

How readily the savage confounds these metamorphoses
which really occur, with metamorphoses which seem to occur
but are impossible, we shall perceive on noting a few cases of
mimicry by insects, and the conclusions they lead to. Many
caterpillars, beetles, moths, butterflies, simulate the objects by
which they are commonly surrounded. The Onychocerus
scorpio is so exactly like, " in colour and rugosity," to a piece
of the bark of the particular tree it frequents, " that until it
moves it is absolutely invisible : " thus raising the idea that
a piece of the bark itself has become alive. Another beetle,
Onthophilv* svlcatw, is "like the seed of an umbelliferous
plant;" another is " undistinguishable by the eye from the
dung of caterpillars ; " some of the Cassidce " resemble glitter-
ing dew-drops upon the leaves;" and there is a weevil so
coloured and formed that, on rolling itself up, it " becomes
a mere oval brownish lump, which it is hopeless to look for
among the similarly-coloured little stones and earth pellets
among which it lies motionless," and out of which it emerges
after its fright, as though a pebble had become animated
To these examples given by Mr. Wallace, may be added that
of the " walking-stick insects," so called " from their singular
resemblance to twigs and branches."

" Some of these are a foot long and as thick as one's finger, and their
whole colouring, form, rugosity, and the arrangement of the head, legs,
and antennae, are such as to render them absolutely identical in appear-
ance with dead sticks. They hang loosely about shrubs in the forest,
and have the extraordinary habit of stretching out their legs un-
symuietrically, so as to render the deception more complete."

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 113

What wonderful resemblances exist, and what illusions
they may lead to, will be fully perceived by those who
have seen, in Mr. Wallace's collection, butterflies of the
Indian genus Kallima, placed amid the objects they simulate.
Settling on branches bearing dead leaves, and closing its
wings, one of these then resembles a dead leaf, not only
in general shape, colour, markings, but in so seating itself
that the processes of the lower wings unite to form the
representation of a foot-stalk When it takes flight, the
impression produced is that one of the leaves has changed
into a butterfly. This impression is greatly strengthened
when the creature is caught. On the under-side of the
closed wings, is clearly marked the mid rib, running right
•cross them both from foot-stalk to apex; and here, too,
are lateral veins. Nay, this is not alL Mr. Wallace says—

** We find representations of leaves in every stage of decay, variously
blotched and mildewed and pierced with holes, and in many cases
irregularly covered with powdery black dots gathered into patches and
spots, so closely resembling the various kinds of minute fungi that
grow on dead leaves that it is impossible to avoid thinking at first
«ight that the butterflies themselves have been attacked by real
fongi*

On recalling the fact that, a few generations ago, civilized
]>eople believed, as many civilized people believe still, that
decaying meat is itself transformed into maggots— on being
reminded that our peasantry at the present time, think the
thread-like aquatic worm Gordivs, is a horsehair that has
fallen into the water and become living ; we shall see that
these extreme resemblances inevitably raise a suspicion of
actual metamorphoses. That this suspicion, so suggested,
becomes a belief, is a proved fact In Java and neighbour-
ing regions inhabited by it, that marvellous insect, "the
walking leaf," is positively asserted to be a leaf that has
become animated What else should it be ? In the absence
of that explanation of mimicry so happily hit upon by
Mr. Bates, no other origin for such wonderful likenesses
between things wholly unallied can be imagined.

X

114 TUE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Once established, the belief in transformation easily
extends itself to other classes of things. Between an egg
and a young bird, there is a far greater contrast in appear-
ance and structure than between one mammal and another.
The tadpole, with a tail and no limbs, differs from the
young frog with four limbs and no tail, more than a man
differs from a hyaena ; for both of these have four limbs, and
both laugh. Hence there seems ample justification for the
belief that any kind of creature may be transformed into any
other; and so there results the theory of metamorphosis
in general, which rises into an explanation everywhere em-
ployed without check.

Here, again, we have to note that while initiating and
fostering the notion that things of all kinds may suddenly
change their forms, the experiences of transformations con-
firm the notion of duality. Each object is not only what it
seems, but is potentially something else.

§ 56. What are shadows ? Familiar as has become the
interpretation of them in terms of physical causation, we do
not ask how they look to the absolutely ignorant.

Those from whose minds the thoughts of childhood have
not wholly vanished, will remember the interest they once
felt in watching their shadows — moving legs and arms and
fingers, and observing how corresponding parts of the
shadows moved. By a child a shadow is thought of as an
entity. I do not assert this without evidence. A memo-
randum made in 1858-9, in elucidation of the ideas de-
scribed in the book of Williams on the Fijians, then recently
published, concerns a little girl seven years old, who did not
know what a shadow was, and to whom I could give no con-
ception of its true nature. On ignoring acquired
knowledge, we shall see this difficulty to be quite natural.
A thing having outlines, and differing from surrounding
tilings in colour, and especially a thing which moves, is, in
other cases, a reality. Why is not this a reality? The

TRIMITiVE IDEAS. 115

conception of it as merely a negation of light, cannot be
framed until after the behaviour of light is in some degree
understood. Doubtless the uncultured among ourselves,
without formulating the truth that light, proceeding in
straight lines, necessarily leaves unlighted spaces behind
opaque objects, nevertheless regard a shadow as naturally
attending an object exposed to light, and as not being any-
thing real. But this is one of the countless cases in which
inquiry is set at rest by* a verbal explanation. " It's only a
shadow," is the answer given in early days ; and this
answer, repeatedly given, deadens wonder and stops further
thought.

The primitive man, left to himself, necessarily concludes
a shadow to be an actual1 existence, which belongs to the
person casting it He simply accepts the facts. Whenever
the sun or moon is visible, he sees this attendant thing which
rudely resembles him in shape, which moves when he moves,
which now goes ■ before him; new keeps by his side, now
follows him, which lengthens and shortens as the ground in-
clines this way or that, and which distorts itself in strange
ways as he passes by irregular surfaces. True, he cannot see
it in cloudy weather; but, in the absence of a physical
interpretation, this simply proves that his attendant conies
out only on bright days and bright nights. It is true, also,
that such resemblance as his shadow bears to him, and its
approximate separateness from him, are shown only when
lie stands up: on lying down it seems to disappear and
partially merge into him. But this observation confirms
his impression of its reality. The greater or less separateness
of his own shadow, reminds him of cases where a shadow is
quite separata When watching a fish in the water on a fine
day, he sees a dark, fish-shaped patch on the bottom at a con-
siderable distance from the fish, but nevertheless following it
hither and thither. lilting up his eye3, he observes dark-
tracts moving along the mountain sides — tracts which,
whether traced or not to the clouds that cast them, are seen

I 2

116 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY

to be widely disconnected from objects. Hence it is clear
that shadows, often so closely joined with their objects as to
be hardly distinguishable from them, may become, distinct
and remote.

Thus, by minds beginning to generalize, shadows must
be conceived as existences appended to, but capable of
separation from, material things. And that they are so
conceived is abundantly proved. The Benin-negroes regard
men's shadows as their souls ; and the Wanika are afraid of
their own shadows : possibly thinking, as some other negroes
do, that their shadows watch all their actions, and bear
witness against them. The Greenlanders say a man's
shadow is one of his two souls — the one which goes away
from his body at night. Among the Fijians, too, the shadow
is called "the dark spirit," as distinguished from another
which each man possesses. And the community of meaning,
hereafter to be noted more fully, wlxicli various unallied
languages betray between shade and spirit, shows us the
same tiling.

These illustrations suggest more than I here wish to show.
The ideas of the uncivilized as we now find them, have
developed from their first vague forms into forms having
more coherence and definiteness. We must neglect the
special characters of these ideas, and consider only that most
general character with which they began. This proves to be
the character inferred above. Shadows are realities which,
always intangible and often invisible, nevertheless severally
belong to their visible and tangible correlatives ; and the
facts they present, furnish further materials for developing
both the notion of apparent and unapparent states of being,
and the notion of a duality in things.

§ 57. Other phenomena, in some respects allied, yield to
these notions still more materials. I refer to reflections.

If the rude resemblance which a shadow bears to the
person casting it, raises the idea of a second entity, much

i

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 117

more must the exact resemblance of a reflection do this. Re-
peating all the details of form, of light and shade, of colour,
and mimicking even the grimaces of the original, this image
cannot at first be interpreted otherwise than as an ex-
istence. Only by experiment is it ascertained that to the
visual impressions there are not, in this case, those corre-
sponding tactual impressions yielded by most otlier things.
What results ? Simply the notion of an existence which can
be seen but not felt Optical interpretation is impossible.
That the image is formed by reflected rays, cannot be con-
ceived while physical knowledge does not exist ; and in the
absence of authoritative statement that the reflection is a
mere appearance, it is inevitably taken for a reality — a
reality in some way belonging to the person whose traits it
simulates and whose actions it mocks. Moreover, these
duplicates seen in the water, yield to the primitive man veri-
fications of certain other beliefs. Deep down in the clear
pool, are there not clouds like those lie sees above ? The
clouds above appear and disappear. Has not the existence
of these clouds below something to do with it ? At night,
again, seeming as though far underneath the surface of the
water, are stars as bright as those overhead. Are there, then,
two places for the stars ? and did those which disappeared
during the day go below where the rest are ? Once more,
overhanging the pool is the dead tree from which he breaks
off branches for firewood. Is there not an image of it too ?
and the branch which he burns and which vanishes while
burning — is there not some connexion between its invisible
state and that image of it in the water which he could not
touch, any more than he can now touch the consumed
branch ?

That reflections thus generate a belief that each person
has a duplicate, usually unseen, but which may be seen on
going to the water-side and looking in, is not an a priori in-
ference only: there are facts verifying it Besides '* the
dark spirit," identified with the shadow, which the Fijians

118 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

say goes to Hades, they say each man has another — " his
likeness reflected in water or a looking-glass," which u is
supposed to stay near the place in which a man dies." This
belief in two spirits, is, indeed, the most consistent one. For
are not a man's shadow and his reflection separate ? and are
they not co-existent with one another and with himself?
Can he not, standing at the water-side, observe that the
reflection in the water and the shadow on the shore, simul-
taneously move as he moves ? Clearly, while both belong
to him, the two are independent of him jtnd one another ;
for both may be absent together, and either may be present
in the absence of the other.

Early theories about the nature of this duplicate are now
beside the question. We are concerned only with the fact
that it is thought of as real. Here is, revealed another class of
facts confirming the notion that existences have their visible
and invisible states, and strengthening the implication of a
duality in each existence.

§ 58. Let any one ask himself what- would be his thought
if, in a state of child-like ignorance, he were to hear repeated
a shout which he uttered. Would he not inevitably conclude
that the answering shout came from another person ? Suc-
ceeding shouts severally responded 4x> in tones like his own,
yet without visible source, would rouge the idea that this
person was mocking him, and at the same time concealing
himself. A futile search in the .wood or under ' the cliff,
would end in the conviction that the hiding person was very
cunning : especially when joined to the fact that here, in the
spot whence the answer before came, JW> answer was now
given — obviously because it would disclose the mocker's
whereabouts. If at this same place on subsequent occasions,
a responsive shout always came to. any passer-by who called
out, the resulting thought would be that in this place there
dwelt one of these invisible forms — »a man.who had passed into
an invisible state, or who could become invisible when sought

riilMITIVE IDEAS. 119

No physical explanation of an echo can he framed by the
uncivilized man. What does he know about the reflection of
sound-waves ? — what, indeed, is known about the reflection of
sound-waves by the mass of our own people ? Were it not
that the spread of knowledge has modified the mode of
thought throughout all classes, producing everywhere a
readiness to accept what we call natural interpretations, and
to assume that there are natural interpretations to occur-
rences not comprehended ; there would even now be an
explanation of echoes as caused by unseen beings.

That to the primitive mind they thus present themselves,
is shown by facts. Of the Abipones, we read that " what
became of the Lokal [spirit of the dead] they knew not, but
they fear it, and believe that the echo was its voice." The
Indians of Cumana (Central .America) " believed the soul to
be immortal, that it did eat and drink in a plain where it
resided, and that the echo was its answer to him that spoke
or called." Narrating his voyage down the Niger, Lander
says that from time to time, as they came to a turn in the
creek, the captain of the canoe halloed " to the fetish, and
where an echo was returned, half-a-glass of rum, and a piece of
yam and fish, were thrown into the water ... on asking
Boy the reason why he was throwing away the provisions
thus, he asked : 'Did you not hear. the fetish ? ' "

Here, as before, I must ask the reader to ignore these
special interpretations, acceptance of which forestalls the
argument Attention is now drawn to this evidence simply
as confirming the inference that, in the absence of physical
explanation, an echo is conceived. as the voice of some one
who avoids being seen. So that once more we have duality
implied — an invisible state as well as a visible state.

§ 59. To a mind unfurnished with any ideas save those of
its own gathering, surrounding nature thus presents multi-
tudinous cases of seemingly-arbitrary change. In the sky and
on the earth, things make their appearance and disappear;

J 20 . THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

and there is nothing to show why they do so. Here on the
surface and there imbedded in the ground, are things that
have been transmuted in substance — changed from flesh to
stone, from wood to flint Living bodies on all sides exemplify
metamorphosis in ways marvellous enough to the instructed,
and to the primitive man quite incomprehensibla And the
conception of two or more inter-changeable states of existence,
impressed on him by such phenomena, is again impressed on
him by shadows, reflections, and echoes.

Did we not thoughtlessly accept as self-evident the truths
elaborated during civilization and acquired insensibly during
our early days, we should at once see that these ideas which
the primitive man forms, are inevitably formed. The laws of
mental association necessitate these primitive notions of
transmutation, of metamorphosis, of duality; and, until
experiences have been systematized, no restraints are put
on them. With the eyes of developed knowledge we look
at snow as a particular form of crystallized water, and at hail
as drops of rain which congealed as they felL When these
become fluid we say they have thawed — thinking of the
change as a physical effect of heat ; and, similarly, when the
hoar frost fringing the sprays turns into hanging drops, or
when the surface of the pool solidifies and again liquefies.
But looked at with the eyes of absolute ignorance, these
changes are transmutations of substance — passings from one
kind of existence into another kind of existence. And in like
ways are conceived all the changes above enumerated.

Let us now ask what happens in the primitive mind when
there has been accumulated this chaotic assemblage of crude
ideas, having, amid their differences, certain resemblances.
In conformity with the law of evolution, every aggregate
tends to integrate, and to differentiate while it integrates.
The aggregate of primitive ideas must do this. After what
manner will it do it ? These multitudinous vague notiorg
form a loose mass without order. They slowly segregate,
like cohering with like, and so forming indefinitely-marked

PRIMITIVE IDEAS. 121

groups. When these groups begin to form a consolidated
whole, constituting a general conception of the way in which
things at large go on, they must do it in the same way : such
coherence of the groups as arises, must be due to some likeness
among the members of all the groups. We have seen that
there is such a likeness — this common trait of duality joined
with this aptitude for passing from one mode of existence to
another. Integration must be set up by the recog-

nition of some conspicuous typical case. When, into a heap
of detached observations, is introduced an observation akin to
them in which a causal relation is discernible, it forthwith com-
mences assimilating to itself from this heap of observations,
those which are congruous; and tends even to coerce into
union those of which the congruity is not manifest. One may
say that as the protoplasm forming an unfertilized germ,
remains inert until the matter of a sperm-cell is joined with
it, but begins to organize when this addition is made ; so a
loose mass of observations continues unsystematized in the
absence of an hypothesis, but under the stimulus of an hypo-
thesis undergoes changes bringing about a coherent systematic
doctrine. What particular example, then, of this

prevalent duality, plays the part of an organizing principle to
the aggregate of primitive ideas ? We must not look for an
hypothesis properly so called : an hypothesis is an implement
of inquiry not to be framed by the primitive mind. We must
look for some experience in which this duality is forcibly
thrust on the attention. As a consciously-held hypothesis is
based on some obtrusive instance of a relation, which other
instances are suspected to be like ; so the particular primitive
notion which is to serve as an unconscious hypothesis, setting
up organization in this aggregate of primitive notions, must
be one conspicuously exemplifying their common trait.

First identifying this typical notion, we must afterwards
enter on a survey of the conceptions which result. It will be
needful to pursue various lines of inquiry and exposition not
manifestly relevant to our subject ; and it will also be needful

122 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

to contemplate much evidence furnished by men who have
advanced beyond the savage state. But this discursive
treatment is unavoidable. Until we can figure to ourselves
with approximate truth the primitive system of thought, we
cannot understand primitive conduct ; and rightly to conceive
the primitive system of thought, we must compare the
systems found in many societies: helping ourselves by
observing its developed forms, to verify our conclusions
respecting its undeveloped form.*

* The reader who is surprised to find in the succeeding chapters so much
spare devoted to the genesis of those " superstitions," as we call them, which
constitute the primitive man's Theory of Things, will get a clue on turning
to the first part of my Essay on " Manners and Fashion," originally pub-
lished in 1854 (see Essays, Ac., Vol. I). The conception, there briefly indi-
cated, of the way in which social organisation is affected by the way in
which his emotions are guided by his beliefs, I have been, since that date,
slowly developing ; and the following chapters present it in a complete form.
Beyond publishing an article on " The Origin of Animal-Worship " in May,
1870, I have, in the meantime, done nothing towards selling forth these
developed views : other subjects having had prior claims.

CHAPTER IX.

THE IDEAS OF THE ANIMATE AND THE INANIMATE.

§ 60. At first sight, the difference between an animal and
a plant seems greater than the difference between a plant
and a lifeless object. Its frequent movements distinguish
a quadruped or a bird from inert things ; but a plant, inert in
most respects, is not thus distinguished. Only to beings
capable of making those comparisons between past and
present by which growth is detected and the cycle of repro-
ductive changes traced, can it become manifest that plants are
allied with animals more than with other entities. The
earliest classification, then, puts animals into one group and
the rest of things into another.

Hence, in considering how there arises in consciousness the
distinction between the living and the not-living, we may, for
a while, neglect the phenomena of plant-life and consider
only those of animal-life.

To understand the nature of the conceived distinction in
the mind of the primitive man, we must observe the develop-
ment of it through lower forms of consciousness.

§ 61. If, when wandering some sunny day on the sea-shore
among masses of rock covered with " acorn-shells," one stops
to examine something, a feeble hiss may be heard. On
investigation, it will be found that this sound proceeds from
the acorn-shells. During low tide they commonly remain
with their valves not quite shut; but those on which a

124 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

shadow is suddenly cast begin to close, and by simultaneous
closure of the great numbers covered by the shadow, this
faint noise is produced. Here the fact to be observed is
that these cirrhipeds, which are transformed crustaceans
having aborted eyes imbedded in their bodies, and vision
which suffices only to discriminate light from darkness, draw
to the doors of their cells when the light is all at once inter-
cepted. Ordinarily, something alive casts the shadow — there
is an Adjacent source of danger. But as the shadow may be
cast by a sharp-edged cloud, which obscures the sun with
adequate suddenness, an adjacent living body is not always
the eause : the test is an imperfect one. Still, we see that
deep down among creatures thus unintelligent, there is a
vague general response to an indication of adjacent life : the
indication being a change that implies a moving body.

Various inferior types whose lives are carried on mainly by
reflex actions, display no very marked advance on this mode
of discriminating the living from the not-living, as visually
presented. Further along the shore, in the tide-pools, are
shrimps, which dart in all directions when a large body comes
near ; and when decaying sea-weed is disturbed, the sea-
fleas jump at random, whatever may have caused the dis-
turbance. So in the neighbouring fields, the insects, not
distinguishing the shapes of moving objects or their kinds
of motion, fly or leap when sudden great changes of visual
impression are made on them — each such change usually*
implying a living body near at hand. In these cases, as in
the cases of caterpillars that roll themselves up when touched,
the action is* automatic. After the vivid nervous stimulus
comes a strong motor discharge, resulting in flight or in
diffused contraction of the muscles.

In such cases the motion which implies life is confounded
with the motion which does not The kind of mental act is
like that occurring in ourselves when some large object
suddenly passes close in front. An in voluntary startresults,
before there is time to decide whether the object is alive or

THE IDEAS OF THE ANIMATE AND INANIMATE. 125

dead — a source of danger or not. The primary suggestion with
us, as with these lower creatures, is that motion implies life ;
but whereas with us conscious observation instantly disproves
or verifies this suggestion, with them it does not.

§ 62. What is the first specialization of this original con-
sciousness ? How do superior creatures begin to qualify
this association between motion and life, in such way as to
exclude from the class of living things a number which move
but are not living? Where intelligence rises beyond the
merely automatic, the motion implying life begins to be
distinguished from other motion by its spontaneity. With*
out being struck or pushed by anything external, bodies
which are alive suddenly change from rest to movement, or
from movement to rest Books show appreciation of this
difference. Watching doubtfully as you pass in the distance,
they rise into the air if you stop ; or, not doing this, do it
when you walk on.

That the spontaneity of the motion serves as a test, is
clearly shown by the behaviour of animals in presence of a
railway train, which shows no spontaneity. In the early days
of railways they displayed great alarm; but after a time,
familiarized with the roar and the swift motion of this some-
thing which, appearing in the distance rushed by and disap-
peared in the distance, they became regardless of it The
eattle now continue to graze ; and even the partridges on the
embankment-slopes scarcely raise their heads.

Converse evidence is yielded by the behaviour of a dog
mentioned by Mr. Darwin. Like others of his kind, and like
superior animals generally, he was regardless of the swaying
flowers and the leaves occasionally rustled by the summer
breeze. But there happened to be on the lawn an opened
parasol. From time to time the breeze stirred this ; and when
it did so, the dog growled fiercely and barked. Conscious, as
his experiences had made him, that the familiar agency which
he felt raising his own hair, sufficed also to move the leaves

126 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

about, and that consequently their motion was not self-
produced, he had not observed so large a thing as a parasol
thus moved. Hence arose the idea of some living power — an
intruder.

Again, appearances which at first vividly suggest life,
presently cease to suggest it if spontaneity is absent. The
behaviour of a dog before a looking-glass proves this. At
first conceiving the reflected image to be another dog, he is
excited ; and if the back of the looking-glass is accessible,
makes attempts to reach the supposed stranger. When, how-
ever, the glass is so placed, say in a chiffonier, as to show him
the image very frequently, he becomes indifferent to it. For
what reason ? The appearance does not spontaneously move.
While he is still, it remains still; and any motion in it
follows motion in himself.

§ 63. Yet a further test used by intelligent animals to
discriminate the living from the not-living, is the adaptation
of motion to ends. Amusing herself with a mouse she has
caught, the cat, if it remains long stationary, touches it with
her paw to make it run. Obviously the thought is that a
living thing disturbed will try to escape, and so bring a
renewal of the chase. Not only is it expected that there will
be self-produced motion ; but it is expected that this motion
will be away from danger. Habitually it is observable of
animals that when failing to decide by the odour whether
something smelt at is a living creature or not, there is an
anticipation that disturbance will cause it to run away if it is
alive. And even the behaviour of some gregarious birds when
one of their number has been shot, shows that the absence of
response to the cries and movements of the flock, leads to the
impression that their companion is no longer one of that class
of objects known as animated.

§ 64. Thus in the ascent from low to high types oi crea-
tures, the power of distinguishing the animate from the

THE IDEA8 OF THE ANIMATE AND INANIMATE. 127

inanimate increases. First motion, then spontaneous motion,
then adapted spontaneous motion, are the successive tests
used as intelligence progresses.

Doubtless other traits aid. Sniffing the air, a deer per-
ceives by something in it the proximity of an enemy ; and a
carnivore often follows prey by the scent it has left. But
certain odours, though concomitants of life, are not used as
tests of life ; for when found, the objects which exhale the
odours are not regarded as living if they exhibit none of the
expected motions. Sounds, too, serve as indications; but
these, when caused by animals, are the results of spontaneous
motions, and are taken to imply life only because they
accompany other spontaneous motions.

It should be added that the ability thus to class apart the
animate and the inanimate, is inevitably developed in the
course of evolution. Under penalties of death by starvation
or destruction, there has been a constant cultivation of the
power to discriminate the two, and a consequent increase of it.

§ 65. Shall we say that the primitive man is less intelli-
gent than the lower mammals, less intelligent than birds and
reptiles, less intelligent even than insects ? Unless we say
this, we must say that the primitive man distinguishes the
living from the not-living; and if we credit him with intel-
ligence higher than that of brutes, we must infer that he
distinguishes the living from the not-living better than brutes
do. The tests wliich other creatures use, and which the
superior among them rightly use in nearly all cases, he also
must use : the only difference being that occasional errors of
classing into which the most developed among other creatures
fall, he avoids.

It is true that the uncivilized man as we now find him,
commonly errs in his classification when shown certain pro-
ducts of civilized art, having traits of structure or behaviour
like those of living things. By the Esquimaux, Boss's
vessels were thought alive — moving as they did without

128 THU DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

oars; and Thomson says of the New Zealanders, that
" when Cook's ship hove in sight, the people took her for a
whale with wings." Andersson tells us that by the Bush-
men, a waggon was supposed to be animated, and to want
grass : its complexity, its symmetry, and its moving wheels,
being irreconcilable with their experiences of inanimate
things. " It is alive " said an Arawak to Brett, on seeing
a pocket-compass. That a watch is taken by savages for
a living creature, is a fact frequently noted. And we
have, again, the story of the Esquimaux, who, ascribing life
to a musical box and a barrel-organ, regarded the one as the
child of the other. But automatic instruments

emitting various sounds, are in that respect strikingly like
many animated bodies. The motions of a watch seem
spontaneous; and hence the ascription of life is quite natural.
We must exclude mistakes made in classing those things
which advanced arts have made to simulate living things ;
since such things mislead the primitive man in ways unlike
those in which he can be misled by the natural objects around
him. Limiting ourselves to his conceptions of these natural
objects, we cannot but conclude that his classification of them
into animate and inanimate, is substantially correct

Concluding this, we are obliged to diverge at the outset
from certain interpretations currently given of his super-
stitions. The belief, tacit or avowed, that the primitive man
thinks there is life in things which are not living, is clearly
an untenable belief. Consciousness of the difference be-
tween the two, growing ever more definite as intelligence
evolves, must be in him more definite than in all lower
creatures. To suppose that without cause he begins to con-
found them, is to suppose the process of evolution is in-
verted

§ 66. It is, indeed, urged that undeveloped human intel-
ligence daily shows a tendency to confound them. Certain
facts are named as implying that children fail in the dis-

THE IDEAS- OF THE ANIMATE AND INANIMATE. 129

crimination. Were not this evidence vitiated by the sug-
gestions of adults, it would have weight. But on remember-
ing that when trying to pacify a child that has hurt itself
against some inanimate object, a mother or nurse will affect
to take the child's part against this object, perhaps saying,
u Naughty chair to hurt baby — beat it ! " we shall suspect
that the notion does not originate with the child but is given
to it The habitual behaviour of children to surrounding
things implies no such confusion. Unless an inanimate
object so far resembles an animate one as to suggest the idea
that it may be a motionless living creature which will pre-
sently move, a child shows no fear of it True, if an inani-
mate thing moves without a perceived external force, alarm
results. Unlike as a thing may be to living things, yet if it
displays this spontaneity characteristic of living things, the
idea of life is aroused, and a scream may be caused. But
otherwise, life is no more ascribed by a child than by a
puppy or a kitten * Should it be said that an

older child, endowing its playthings with personalities,
speaks of them and fondles them as though they were

* Not long after the above passage was published I met with a good
illustration of the way in which sueh ideas are indirectly suggested to
children by remarks made, and then ascribed to them as original; and,
strange to say, this illustration was furnished by the mistaken interpretation
pot by a distinguished psychologist, M. Taine, on his own child's question.
In the Revue Pkilasopkique for January, 1876, p. 14, he wrote : —

* Un soir (trois ans) oomme elle s'enqueruit de la lune, on lui dit qu'elle
est allee ae ooucher, et la-dessus elle reprend : ' Oh done est la bonne de la
fame?' Tout ceci ressemble fort aux emotions et aux conjectures des
peoples enfant*, a leur admiration Tire et profonde en face des grandes
ehoses naturelles, a la puissance qu'exercent but eux Tanalogie, le langage et
la metaphore pour les conduire aux mythes solaires, lunaires, eta Admettei
qu'an pexeil etat d'esprit soit universe! a une epoque $ on devine tout de
emte les cultes et les legendes qui se formeraient. Ce sont celles des Vtdae,
da VKdda, et meme d'Honiere."

How, it needs but to observe that the child had been told that the moon
was going to bed to see that, by implication, life had already been ascribed to
the moon. The thought obviously was — If the moon goes to bed it must have
a nurse, as I have a nurse when I go to bed, and the moon must be alive

Ml

130 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

living; the reply is that this shows not belief but de-
liberate fiction. Though pretending that the things are
alive, the child does not really think them so. Were its
doll to bite, it would be no less astounded than an adult
would be. To secure that pleasurable action of unused
faculties called play, many intelligent creatures thus
dramatize: lacking the living objects, they will accept as
representing them, non-living objects— especially if these
can be made to sinlulate life. But the dog pursuing a stick
does not think it alive. If he gnaws it after catching it, he
does but cany out his dramatized chase. Did he think the
stick alive, he would bite it as eagerly before it was thrown
as after. It is further alleged that even the grown man
sometimes betrays a lurking tendency to think of inanimate
objects as animate. Made angry by resistance to his efforts,
he may in a fit of rage swear at some senseless thing, or dash
it on the ground, or kick it But the obvious interpretation
is that anger, like every strong emotion, tends to discharge
itself in violent muscular actions, which must take some
direction or other ; that when, as in many past cases, the
cause of the anger has been a, living object, the muscular
actions have been directed towards the injury of such object ;
and that the established association directs the muscular
discharges in the same way when the object is not living, if
there is nothing to determine them in any other way. But
the man who thus vents his fury cannot be said to think the
thing is alive, though this mode of showing his irritation
makes him seem to think so.

None of these facts, then, imply any real confusion
between the animate and the inanimate. The power to
distinguish between the two, which is one of the first powers
vaguely shown even by creatures devoid of special senses,
which goes on increasing as intelligence evolves, and which
becomes complete in the civilized man, must be regarded as
approaching completeness in the uncivilized man. It cannot

TUB IDEAS OF TUB ANIMATE AND INANIMATE. 1S1

lie admitted that he confuses things which, through all
lower forms of mind, have been growing clear.

§ 67. " How, then, are we to explain his superstitions ? "
it will be asked. " That these habitually imply the ascrip-
tion of life to things not alive, is undeniable. If the
primitive man has no proclivity to this confusion, how is it
possible to explain the- extreme prevalence, if not the uni-
versality, of beliefs which give personalities, and tacitly
ascribe animation, to multitudes of inanimate things ? "

The reply is, that these cannot be primary beliefs, but
must be secondary beliefs into which the primitive man is
betrayed during his early attempts to understand the sur-
rounding world. The incipiently-speculative stage, must
come after a stage in which there is no speculation — a
stage in which there yet exists no sufficient language for
carrying on speculation. During this stage, the primitive
man no more tends to confound animate with inanimate
than inferior creatures do. If, in his first efforts at inter-
pretation, he forms conceptions inconsistent with this pre-
established distinction between animate and inanimate, it
must be that some striking experience misleads him — intro-
duces a germ of error which develops into an erroneous set
of interpretations.

What is the germinal error ? We may fitly seek for it
amid those experiences which mask the distinction between
animate and inanimate. There are continually-recurring
states in which living things simulate things not alive ; and
in certain attendant phenomena we shall find the seed of
that system of superstitions which the primitive man forms.

X 2

CHAPTEB X

THE IDEAS OF SLEEP AND DREAMS.

§ 68. A conception which is made so familiar to us
during education that we mistake it for an original and
necessary one, is the conception of Mind, as an internal
existence distinct from body. The hypothesis of a sentient,
thinking entity, dwelling within a corporeal framework,
is now so deeply woven into our beliefs and into our
language, that we can scarcely imagine it to be one which
the primitive man did not entertain, and could not entertain.

Yet if we ask what is given in experience to the untaught
human being, we find that there is nothing to tell him of any
such existence. From moment to moment he sees things
around, touches them, handles them, moves them hither and
thither. He knows nothing of sensations and ideas — has no
words for them. Still less has he any such highly-abstract
word or conception as consciousness. He thinks without
observing that he thinks ; and therefore never asks how he
thinks, and what it is which thinks. His senses make him
conversant only with objects externally existing, and with
his own body ; and he transcends his senses only far enough
to draw concrete inferences respecting the actions of these
objects. An invisible, intangible entity, such as Mind is
supposed to be, is a high abstraction unthinkable by him, and
inexpressible by his vocabulary.

This, which is obvious a priori, is verified a posteriori.

THE IDEAS Of SLEEP AND DBEAMS. 133

The savage cannot speak of internal intuition except in
terms of external intuition. We ourselves, indeed, when
saying that we see something that has been dearly explained,
or grasp an argument palpably true, still express mental acts
by words originally used to express bodily acts. And this
use of words implying vision and touch, which with us is
metaphorical, is, with the savage, not distinguished from
literal. He symbolizes his mind by his eye, (See Principles
of Psychology, § 404.)

But until there is a conception of Mind as an internal
principle of activity, there can be no such conception of
dreams as we have. To interpret the sights and sayings and
doings we are conscious of during sleep, as activities of the
thinking entity which go on while the senses are closed,
is impossible until the thinking entity is postulated. Hence
arises the inquiry — What explanation is given of dreams
before the conception of Mind exists.

§ 69. Hunger and repletion, both very common with tin;
primitive man, excite dreams of great vividness. Now, after
a bootless chase and a long fast, he lies exhausted; and..
while slumbering, goes through a successful hunt — kills,
skins, and cooks his prey, and suddenly wakes when about
to taste the first morsel To suppose him saying to himself
— " It was all a dream," is to suppose him already in posses-
sion of that hypothesis which we see he cannot have. lie
takes the facts as they occur. With perfect distinctness he
recalls the things he saw and the actions he performed ; and
lie accepts undoubtingly the testimony of memory. True, he
all at once finds himself lying still. He does not under-
stand how the change took place; but, as we have lately
seen, the surrounding world familiarizes him with unaccount-
able appearances and disappearances, and why should not
this be one ? If at another time, lying gorged with food,
the disturbance of his circulation causes nightmare — if, try-
ing to escape and being unable, he fancies himself in the

134 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY,

clutches of a bear, and wakes with a shriek ; why should he
conclude that the shriek was not due to an actual danger ?
Though his squaw is there to tell him that she saw no bear,
yet she heard his shriek ; and like him has not the dimmest
notion that a mere subjective state can produce such an
effect — has, indeed, no terms in which to frame such a
notion.

The belief that dreams are actual experiences is confirmed
by narrations of them in imperfect language. We forget
that discriminations easy to us, are impossible to those who
have but few words, all concrete in their meanings, and only
rude propositional forms in which to combine these words.
When we read that in the language of so advanced a people
as the ancient Peruvians, the word huaca meant "idol,
temple, sacred place, tomb, hill, figures of men and animals,"
we may judge how indefinite must be the best statements
which the vocabularies, of the rudest men enable them
to make. When we read of an existing South American
tribe, that the proposition — " I am an Abipone," is expres-
sible only in the vague way — " I, Abipone ; " we cannot but
infer that by such undeveloped grammatical structures, only
the simplest thoughts can be rightly .conveyed. When,
further, we learn that among the lowest men inadequate
words indefinitely combined are also imperfectly pronounced,
as, for instance, among the Akka, whose speech struck
Schweinfurth by its inarticulateness, we recognize a third
cause of confusion. And thus prepared, we need feel no
surprise on being told that the Zuni Indians require " much
facial contortion and bodily gesticulation to make their
sentences perfectly intelligible;" 'jthat the language of the
Bushmen needs so many signs jto -eke out its meaning,
that " they are unintelligible in the dark ; " and that the
Arapahos " can hardly converse with one another in the
dark/1 If, now, remembering all this, we ask what

must happen when a dream is narrated by a savage, we shall
see that even supposing he suspects some distinction between

THE IDEAS OP SLEEP AND DUE A MS. 135

ideal actions and real actions, he cannot express it His
language does not enable him to say — " I dreamt that I saw/'
instead of — "I saw." Hence each relates his dreams as
though they were realities; and thus strengthens in every
other, the belief that his own dreams are realities.

What then is the resulting notion? The sleeper on
awaking recalls various occurrences, and repeats them to
others. He thinks he has been elsewhere ; witnesses say he
has not ; and their testimony is verified by finding himself
where he was when he went to sleep. The simple course is
to believe both that he has remained and that he has been
away — that he has two individualities, one of which leaves
the other and presently comes back. He, too, has a double
existence, like many other things.

§ 70. From all quarters come proofs that this is the
conception actually formed of dreams by savages, and which
survives after considerable advances in civilization have
been made. Here are a few of the testimonies.

Schoolcraft tells us that the North' American Indians in
general, think "there are duplicate souls, one of which
remains with the body, while the other is free to depart on
excursions during sleep ; " and, according to Crantz, the
Greenlanders hold "that the soul can forsake the body
during the interval of sleep." The theory in New Zealand
is "that during sleep the mind left the body, and that
dreams are the objects seen during its wanderings ; " and in
Fiji, u it is believed that the spirit of a man who still lives
will leave the body to trouble other people when asleep."
Similarly in Borneo. It is the conviction of the Dyaks that
the soul during sleep goes on expeditions of its own, and
u sees, hears, and talks." Among Hill-tribes of India, such
as the Karens, the same doctrine is held: their statement
being that "in sleep it [the Li, spirit or ghost] wanders
away to the ends of the earth, and our dreams are what the
IA sees and experiences in his peiambulation&" By the

136" THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY,

ancient Peruvians, too, developed as was the social state they
had reached, the same interpretation was put upon the facts.
They held that " the soul leaves the body while it is sleeping.
They asserted that the soul could not sleep, and that the
things we dream are what the soul sees in the world while
the body sleeps." And we are told the like even of the
Jews : " Sleep is looked upon as a kind of death, when
the soul departs from the body, but is restored again in
awaking."

Occurring rarely, it may be, somnambulism serves, when
it does occur, to confirm this interpretation. For to the
uncritical, a sleep-walker seems to be exemplifying that
activity during sleep, which the primitive conception of
dreams implies. Each phase of somnambulism furnishes
its evidence. Frequently the sleeper gets up,

performs various actions, and returns to rest without
waking; and, recalling afterwards these actions, is told
by witnesses that he actually did the things he thought
he had been doing. What construction must be put on
such an experience by primitive men? It proves to the
somnambulist that he may lead an active life during his
sleep, and yet find himself afterwards in the place where he
lay down. With equal conclusiveness it proves to those
who saw him, that men really go away during their sleep ;
that they do the things they dream of doing; and may
even sometimes be visible. True, a careful examination
of the facts would show that in this case the man's
body was absent from its place of rest But savages do
not carefully examine the facts. Again, in cases

where the sleep-walker does not recollect the things he
did, there is still the testimony of others to show him that
he was not quiescent; and occasionally there is more.
When, as often happens, his night-ramble brings him
against an obstacle and the collision wakes him, he has a
demonstration of the alleged fact that he goes hither and.
thither during sleep. On returning to his sleeping-place

TUB IDEAS OF SLEEP AND D RE A Ma 137

he does not, indeed, find a second self there; but this
discovery, irreconcilable with the accepted notion, simply
increases the confusion of his ideas about these matters.
Unable to deny the evidence that he wanders when asleep,
lie takes his strange experience in verification of the current
belief, without dwelling on the inconsistency.

When we consider what tradition, with its exaggerations,
is likely to make of these abnormal phenomena, now and
then occurring, we shall see that the primitive interpretation
of dreams must receive from them strong support.

§ 71. Along with this belief there of course goes the
belief that persons dreamt of were really met. If the
dreamer thinks his own actions real, he ascribes reality to
whatever he saw — place, thing, or living being. Hence a
group of facts similarly prevalent

Morgan states that the Iroquois think dreams real, and
obey their injunctions — do what they are told by those they
see in dreams ; and of the Chippewas, Keating asserts that
they fast for the purpose of "producing dreams, which
they value above all things/9 The Malagasy "have a
religious regard to dreams, and think that the good damon
. . . comes, and tells them in their dreams when they
ought to do a thing, or to warn them of some danger." The
Sandwich Islanders say the departed member of a family
" appears to the survivors sometimes in a dream, and watches
over their destinies;" and the Tahitians have like beliefs.
In Africa it is the sama The Congo people hold that what
they see and hear in "dreams come to them from spirits;'
and among East Africans, the Wanika believe that the
spirits of the dead appear to the living in dreams. The
Kaffirs, too, "seem to ascribe dreams in general to the
spirits." Abundant evidence is furnished by Bishop Callaway
concerning the Zulus, whose ideas he has written down from
their own mouths. Intelligent as these people are, some-
what advanced in social state, and having language enabling

338 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

them to distinguish between dream-perceptions and ordinary
perceptions, we nevertheless find among them (joined with an
occasional scepticism) a prevalent belief that the persons who
appear in dreams are real Out of many illustrations, here
is one furnished by a man who complains that he is plagued
by the spirit of his brother. He tells his neighbours : —

" I have seen my brother." They ask what he said. He says, M I
dreamed that he was beating me, and saying, * How is it that you do
no longer know that I am V I answered him, Baying, 'When I do know
you, what can I do that you may see I know you ? I know that you
are my brother.' He answered me as soon as I said this, and asked,
'When you sacrifice a bullock, why do you not call upon me?' I
replied, ' I do call on you, and laud you by your laud-giving names.
Just tell me the bullock which I have killed, without calling on you.
For I killed an ox, I called on you ; I killed a barren cow, I called on
you.' He answered, saying, ' I wish for meat' I refused him, saying,
1 No, my brother, I have no bullock ; do you see any in the cattle-pen?*
He replied, * Though there be but one, I demand it>' When I awoke, I
had a pain in my side."

Though this conception of a dead brother as a living being
who demands meat, and inflicts pain for non-compliance, is
so remote from our own conceptions as to seem scarcely pos-
sible ; yet we shall see its possibility on remembering how
little it differs from the conceptions of early civilized races.
At the opening of the second book of the Iliad, we find the
dream sent by Zeus to mislead the Greeks, described as a
real person receiving from Zeus's directions what he is to say
to the sleeping Agamemnon. In like manner, the soul of
Patroclus appeared to Achilles when asleep " in all things
like himself," saying "bury me soon that I may pass the
gates of Hades," and, when grasped at, " like smoke vanished
with a shriek :" the appearance being accepted by Achilles
as a reality, and its injunction as imperative. Hebrew
writings show us the like* When we read that " God came
to Abimelech in a dream by night/' that " the Lord came*
and stood, and called as at other times, Samuel, Samuel ;" we
see an equally unhesitating belief in an equally objective
reality. During civilization this faith has been but slowly

TEE IDEAS OF SLEEP AND DREAMS. 130

losing ground, and even still survives ; as is proved by the
stories occasionally told of people who when just dead
appeared to distant relations, and as is proved by the super*
stitions of the " spiritualists."

Indeed, after recalling these last, we have but to imagine
ourselves de-civilized — we have but to suppose faculty de-
creased, knowledge lost, language vague, and scepticism
absent, to understand how inevitably the primitive man
conceives as real, the dream-personages we know to be
ideal*

§ 72. A reflex action on other beliefs is exercised by these
beliefs concerning dreams. Besides fostering a system of
erroneous ideas, this fundamental misconception discredits
the true ideas which accumulated experiences of things are
ever tending to establish.

For while the events dreamed are accepted as events that
have really occurred — while the order of phenomena they
exhibit is supposed to be an actual order; what must be
thought about the order of phenomena observed at other
times? Such uniformities in it as daily repetition makes
conspicuous, cannot produce that sense of certainty they
might produce if taken by themselves ; for in dreams these
uniformities are not maintained. Though trees and stones
seen when awake, do not give place to other things which
panoramically change, yet, when the eyes are closed at night
they do. While looking at him in broad daylight, a man
does not transform himself ; but during slumber, something
just now recognized as a companion, turns into a furious
beast, threatening destruction ; or what was a moment since
a pleasant lake, has become a swarm of crocodiles. Though
when awake, the ability to leave the earth's surface is
limited to a leap of a few feet ; yet, when asleep, there some-
times comes a consciousness of flying with ease over vast
regions. Thus, the experiences in dreams habitually

contradict the experiences received during the day; and tend

140* TUB DATA OP SOCIOLOGY,

to cancel the conclusions drawn from day-experiences. Or
rather, they tend to confirm the erroneous conclusions
suggested by day-experiences, instead of the correct conclu-
sions. For do not these sudden appearances and disappear-
ances in dreams, prove, like many facts observed when
awake, that things can pass unaccountably from visible to
invisible states, and vice verm? And do not these dream-
tiansformations thoroughly accord with those other trans-
formations, some real and some apparent, which make the
primitive man believe in an unlimited possibility of meta-
morphosis ? When that which in his dream he picked up
as a stone, becomes alive, does not the change harmonize
with his discoveries of fossils having the hardness of stones
and the shapes of living things ? And is not the sudden
exchange of a tiger-shape for the shape of a man, which
his dream shows him, akin to the insect metamorphoses
he has noticed, and akin to the seeming transformations of
leaves into walking creatures ?

Clearly, then, the acceptance of dream-activities as rer.l
activities, strengthens allied misconceptions otherwise gene-
rated. It strengthens them both negatively and positively.
It discredits those waking experiences from which right
beliefs are to be drawn; and it yields support to those
waking experiences which suggest wrong beliefs.

§ 73. That the primitive man's conception of dreaming is
natural, will now be obvious. As said at the outset, his
notions seem strange because, in thinking about them, we
carry with us the theory of Mind which civilization has
slowly established. Mind, however, as we conceive it, is
unknown to the savage; being neither disclosed by the
senses, nor directly revealed as an internal entity. The fact
that even now some metaphysicians hold that nothing beyond
impressions and ideas can be known to exist, wliile others
hold that impressions and ideas imply a something of which
they are states, proves that Mind, as conceived by us, is not

THE IDEAS OF SLEEP AND DltEAMS. 141

an intuition but an implication; and therefore cannot be
conceived until reasoning has made some progress.

like every child, the primitive man passes through a phase
of intelligence during which there has not yet arisen the
power of introspection implied by saying — " I think — I havu
ideas." The thoughts that accompany sensations and tlio
perceptions framed of them, are so unobtrusive, and pass. so
rapidly, that they are not noticed : to notice them implies a
self-criticism impossible at the outset. But these faint
states of consciousness which, during the day, are obscured
by the vivid states, become obtrusive at night, when the
eyes are shut and the other senses dulled. Then the
subjective activities clearly reveal themselves, as the stars
reveal themselves when the sun is absent. That is to say,
dream-experiences necessarily precede the conception of a
mental self; and are the experiences out of which the con-
ception of a menial self eventually grows. Mark the order
of dependence: — The current interpretation of dreams
implies the hypothesis of mind as a distinct entity; the
hypothesis of mind as a distinct entity cannot exist before
the experiences suggesting it ; the experiences suggesting it
are the dream-experiences, which seem to imply two entities ;
and originally the supposition is that the second entity
differs from the first simply in being absent and active at
night while the other is at rest. Only as this assumed
duplicate becomes gradually modified by the dropping of
physical characters irreconcilable with the facts, does the
hypothesis of a mental self, as we understand it, become
established.

Here, then, is the germinal principle which sets up such
organization as the primitive man's random observations
of things can assume. This belief in another self belonging
to him, harmonizes with all those illustrations of duality
furnished by tilings around; and equally harmonizes with
those multitudinous cases in which things pass from visible
to invisible states and back again. Nay more. Comparison

142 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

shows him a kinship between his own double and tho
doubles of other objects. For have not these objects their
shadows ? Has not he too his shadow ? Does not his
shadow become invisible at night ? Is it rot obvious, then,
that this shadow which in the day accompanies his body is
that other self which at night wanders away and has adven-
tures? Clearly, the Greenlanders who, as we have seen,
believe this, have some justification for the belief!

CHAPTER XL

THE IDEAS OF QpOON, APOPLEXY, CATALEPSY, ECSTASY,

AND OTHER FORMS OF INSENSIBILITY.

•

§ 74 The quiescence of ordinary sleep is daily seen by
the savage to be quickly exchanged for activity when the
slumberer is disturbed. Differences between the amounts of
the required disturbances are, indeed, observable. Now the
slightest sound suffices ; and now it needs a shout, or rough
handling, or pinching. Still, his experience shows that
when a man's body lies motionless and insensible, a mere
calling of the name usually causes re-animation.

Occasionally, however, something different happens. Here
is a companion exhibiting signs of extreme pain, who, all at
once, sinks down into an inert state ; and at another time, a
feeble person greatly terrified or even overjoyed, undergoes a
like change. In those who behave thus, the ordinary sensi-
bility cannot be forthwith re-established. Though the Fijian,
in such case, calls the patient by his name, and is led by the
ultimate revival to believe that his other self may be brought
back by calling, yet there is forced on him the fact that this
absence of the other self is uplike its usual absences.
Evidently, the occurrence of this special insensibility,
commonly lasting for a minute or two but sometimes for
hours, confirms the belief in a duplicate that wanders away
from the body and returns to it : the desertion of the body
being now more determined than usual, and being followed.
by silence as to what has been done or seen in the interval*

141 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Our familiar speech bears witness to this primitive inter-
pretation of syncope. We say of one who revives from a
fainting fit, tfiat she is " coming back to herself " — "returning
to herself/' Though we no longer explain insensibility as
due to an absence of the sentient entity from the body, yet
our phrases bear witness to a time when insensibility was
so explained.

§ 75. Apoplexy " is liable to be confounded with syncope or
fainting, and with natural sleep." The" instructed medical
man thus describes it. Judge then how little it can be dis-
criminated by savages.

Suddenly fulling, the apoplectic patient betrays a "total
loss of consciousness, of feeling, and of voluntary movement."
The breathing is sometimes natural, as in quiet sleep ; and
sometimes the patient lies " snoring loudly as in deep sleep."
In either case, however, it presently turns out that the
sleeper cannot be " brought back to himself" as usual : shouts
and shakes have no effect.

What must the savage think about a fellow-savage in this
state; which continues perhaps for a few hours, but occa-
sionally for several days ? Clearly the belief in duality is
strengthened. The second self has gone away for a time
beyond recall ; and when it eventually comes back, nothing
can be learnt about its experiences while absent.

If, as commonly happens, after months or years there
comes a like fall, a like prolonged insensibility, and a like
return, there is again a silence about what has been done.
And then, on a third occasion, the absence is longer than
before — the relatives wait and wait, and there is no coming
back : the coming back seems postponed indefinitely.

§ 76. Similar in its sudden onset, but otherwise dissimilar,
is the nervous seizure called catalepsy; which also lasts some-
times several hours and sometimes several days. Instan-
taneous loss of consciousness is followed by a state in which

THE IDEAS OF SWOON, APOPLEXT, ETO. 145

the patient " presents the air of a statue rather than that of
an animated being." The limbs placed in this or that position,
remain fixed: the agent which controlled them seems absent;
and the body is passive in the hands of those around

Resumption of the ordinary state is as sudden as was
cessation of it And, as before, " there is no recollection of
anything which occurred during the fit" That iff to say,
in primitive terms, the wandering other-self will give no
account of its adventures.

That this conception, carrying out their conception of
dreams, is entertained by savages we have direct testimony*
Concerning the journey ings of souls, the Chippewas say. that
some "are the souls of persons in a lethargy or trance.
Being refused a passage [to the other world], these souls
return to their bodies and re-animate them." And that a
kindred conception has been general, is inferable from the
fact named by Mr. Fiske in his Myths and Myth-makers, that
* in the Middle Ages the phenomena of trance and catalepsy
were cited in proof of the theory that the soul can leave the
body and afterwards return to it"

§ 77. Another, but allied, form of insensibility yields evi-
dence similarly interpretable. I refer to ecstasy. While, by
making no responses to ordinary stimuli, the ecstatic subject
shows that he is " not himself," he seems to have vivid per-
ceptions of things elsewhere.

Sometimes " induced by deep and long-sustained contem-
plation," ecstasy is characterized by " a high degree of mental
excitement, co-existing with a state of unconsciousness of all
surrounding things." While the muscles are " rigid, the body
erect and inflexible," there is " a total suspension of sensi-
bility and voluntary motion." During this state, " visions of
an extraordinary nature occasionally occur," and "can be
minutely detailed afterwards."

Witnessing such phenomena is evidently calculated to
strengthen the primitive belief that each man is double, and

L

146 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

that one part can leave the other; and that it does strengthen
them we have facts to show. Bp. Callaway, describing Zulu
ideas, says a man in ecstasy is believed to see " things which
he would not see if he were not in a state of ecstasy : " a
statement which, joined with their interpretation of dreams,
implies that the visions of his ecstatic state were regarded
by the Zulus as experiences of his wandering other-self.

§ 78. I need not detail the phases of coma, having the
common trait of an unconsciousness more or less unlike
that of sleep, and all of them explicable in the same
way. But there is one other kind of insensibility, highly
significant in its implications, which remains to be noticed—
the insensibility which direct injury produces. This has
two varieties : the . one following loss of blood ; the other
following concussion.

.When treating of the familiar insensibility known as
swoon, I purposely refrained from including loss of blood
among the causes named: this origin not being visibly
allied to its other origins. Leading, as he does, a life of
violence, the primitive man often witnesses fainting from
anaemia. Not that he connects cause and effect in this defi-
nite way. What he sees is, that after a serious wound comes
a sudden collapse, with closed eyes, immobility, speechless-
ness. For a while there is no response to a shake or a call.
Presently his wounded fellow-warrior "returns to himself"
— opens his eyes and speaks. Again the blood gushes from
his wound, and after a time he is again absent. Perhaps
there is a revival and no subsequent unconsciousness ; or,
perhaps, there comes a third quietude — a quietude so pro-
longed that hope of immediate return is given up.

Sometimes the insensibility has a partially-different ante-
cedent. In battle, a blow from a waddy lays low a com-
panion, or a club brought down with force on the head of
an enemy reduces him to a motionless mass. The one or the
other may be only stunned ; and presently there is a " re-ani-

THE IDEAS OF SWOON, APOPLEXY, ETC. 147

motion.* Or the stroke may have been violent enough to
cause concussion of the brain, or fracture of the skull and
consequent pressure on the brain ; whence may result pro*
longed insensibility, followed by incoherent speech and feeble
motion ; after which may come a second lapse into uncon-
sciousness— perhaps ending after another interval, or perhaps
indefinitely continued.

§ 79. Joined with the evidence which sleep and dreams
furnish, these evidences yielded by abnormal states of in-
sensibility, originate a further group of notions concerning
temporary absences of the other-self.

A swoon, explained as above, is not unfrequently pre-
ceded by feelings of weakness in the patient and signs of
it to the spectators. These rouse in both a suspicion that
the other-self is about to desert ; and there comes anxiety to
prevent its desertion. Revival of a fainting person has often
taken place while he was being called to. Hence the question
— will not calling bring back the other-self when it is going
away ? Some savages say yes. The Fijian may sometimes
be heard to bawl out lustily to his own soul to return to him.
Among the Karens, a man is constantly in fear lest his other-
self should leave him : sickness or languor being regarded as
signs of its absence ; and offerings and prayers being made to
bring it back. Especially odd is the behaviour which this
belief causes at a funeral.

" On returning from the grave, each person provides himself with
three little hooks made of branches of trees, and calling his spirit to
follow him, at short intervals, as he returns, he makes a motion as if
hooking it, and then thrusts the hook into the ground. This is done
to prevent the spirit of the living from staying behind with the spirit
of the dead"

Similarly with the graver forms of insensibility. Mostly
occurring, as apoplexy, trance, and ecstasy do, to persons-
otherwise unwell, these prolonged absences of the other*
self become mentally associated with its impending absences

L 2

148 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

at other times ; and hence an interpretation of ill-health or
sickness. Among some Northern Asiatics disease is ascribed
to the soul's departure. By the Algonquins, a sick man is
regarded as a man whose "shadow" is "unsettled, or de-
tached from his body." And in some cases the Karens
suppose one who is taken ill and dying to be one who has
had his soul transferred to another by witchcraft

Various beliefs naturally arise respecting the doings of
the other-self during these long desertions. Among the
Dyaks, "elders and priestesses often assert that in their
dreams they have visited the mansion of Tapa [the Supreme
God], and seen the Creator dwelling in a house like that of
a Malay, the interior of which was adorned with guns and
gongs and jars innumerable, Himself being clothed like a
Dyak." And Hind speaks of a Cree Indian who asserted
that he had once been dead and visited the spirit- world : his
alleged visit being probably, like the alleged visits of the
Dyaks, a vision during abnormal insensibility. For, habi-
tually, a journey to the world of spirits is assigned as the
cause for one of these long absences of the other-self. In-
stances are given by Mr. Tylor of this explanation among
the Australians, the Khonds, the Greenlanders, the Tatars ;
and he names Scandinavian and Greek legends implying the
same notion.

I may add, as one of the strangest of these derivative
beliefs, that of certain Greenlanders, who think that the
soul can "go astray out of the body for a considerable time.
Some even pretend, that when going on a long journey they
can leave their souls at home, and yet remain sound and
healthy."

Thus what have become with us figurative expressions,
remain with men in lower states literal descriptions. The
term applied by Southern Australians to one who is uncon-
scious, means " without soul ; " and we say that such an one
is " inanimate/' Similarly, though our thoughts respecting a
debilitated person are no longer like those of the savage,

I HE IDEAS OF SWOON, APOPLEXY, ETC. 149

yet the words we use to convey them have the same original
implication : we speak of him as having " lost his spirit"

§ 80. The beliefs just instanced, like those instanced
in foregoing chapters, carry us somewhat beyond the
mark. Evolution has given to the superstitions we now
meet with, more specific characters than had the initial
ideas out of which they grew. I must therefore, as before,
ask the reader to ignore the specialities of these interpreta-
tions, and to recognize only the trait common to them.
The fact to be observed is that the abnormal insensibilities
now and then witnessed, are inevitably interpreted in the
same general way as the normal insensibility daily witnessed:
the two interpretations supporting one another.

The primitive man sees various durations of the insensible
state and various degrees of the insensibility. There is the
doze in which the dropping of the head on the breast is
followed by instant waking; there is the ordinary sleep,
ending in a few minutes or continuing many hours, and
varying in profundity from a state broken by a slight sound
to a state not broken without shouts and shakes; there
is lethargy in which slumber is still longer, and the waking
short and imperfect ; there is swoon, perhaps lasting a few
seconds or perhaps lasting hours, from which the patient
now seems brought back to himself by repeated calls, and
now obstinately stays away; and there are apoplexy, cata-
lepsy, ecstasy, etc, similar in respect of the long persistence of
insensibility, though dissimilar in respect of the accounts
the patient gives on returning to himselt Further, these
several comatose states differ as ending, sometimes in revival,
and sometimes in a quiescence which becomes complete
and indefinitely continued : the other-self remaining so long
away that the body goes cold.

Most significant of all, however, are the insensibilities
which follow wounds and blows. Though for other losses of
consciousness the savage saw no antecedents, yet for each

150 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

of these the obvious antecedent was the act of an enemy.
And this act of an enemy produced variable results. Now
the injured man shortly " returned to himself/' and did not
go away again ; and now, returning to himself only after a
long absence, he presently deserted his body for an indefinite
time. Lastly, instead of these temporary returns followed
by final absence, there sometimes occurred cases in which
a violent blow caused continuous absence from the first:
the other-self never came back at all.

CHAPTER XIL

TH£ IDEAS OF DEATH AND BESURRECTION.

§ 81. We assume without hesitation that death is easily
distinguished from life; and we assume without hesitation
that the natural ending of life by death, must have been
always known as it is now known. Each of the assumptions
thus undoubtingly made, is erroneous.

" Nothing is more certain than death ; nothing is at times more on-
certain than its reality: and numerous instances are recorded of
persons prematurely buried, or actually at the verge of the grave,
before it was discovered that life still remained; and even of some who
were resuscitated by the knife of the anatomist."

This passage, which I extract from Forbes and Tweedie's
Cyclopaedia of Practical Medicine, is followed by an exami-
nation of the tests commonly trusted : showing that they
are all fallacious. If, then, having the accumulated expe-
riences bequeathed by civilization, joined to that acquaint-
ance with natural death gained through direct observation
in every family, we cannot be sure whether revival will or
will not take place; what judgments are to be expected
from the primitive man, who, lacking all this recorded
knowledge, lacks also our many opportunities of seeing
natural death ? Until facts have proved it, he cannot know
that this permanent quiescence is the necessary termination
to the state of activity; and his wandering, predatory life
keeps out of view most of the evidence which establishes
this truth.

152 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

So circumstanced, then, what ideas does the primitive man
form of death? Let us observe the course of his thought,
and the resulting conduct.

§ 82. He witnesses insensibilities various in their lengths
and various in their degrees. After the immense majority of
them there come re-animations— daily after sleep, frequently
after swoon, occasionally after coma, now and then after
wounds or blows. What about this other form of insensibi-
lity ? — will not re-animation follow this also ?

The inference that it will, is strengthened by the occasional
experience that revival occurs unexpectedly. One in course
of being buried, or one about to be burned, suddenly comes
back to himself. The savage does not take this for proof
that the man supposed to be dead was not dead ; but it helps
to convince him that the insensibility of death is like all the
other insensibilities— only temporary. Even were he critical,
instead of being incapable of criticism, the facts would go far
to justify his belief that in these cases re-animation has been
only longer postponed.

That this confusion, naturally to be inferred, actually exists,
we have proof. Arbousset and Daumas quote the proverb of
the Bushmen — "Death is only a sleep." Concerning the
Tasmanians, Bonwick writes: — "When one was asked the
reason of the spear being stuck in the tomb, he replied
quietly, * To fight with when he sleep/ " Even so superior a
race as the Dyaks have great difficulty in distinguishing
sleep from death. When a Toda dies, the people " entertain
a lingering hope that till putrefaction commences, reanimation
may possibly take place." More clearly still is this notion of
revival implied in the reasons given for their practices by two
tribes — one in the Old World and one in the New — who
both unite great brutality with great stupidity. The corpse
of a Damara, having been sewn-up sitting " in an old ox-hide/'
is buried in a hole, and " the spectators jump backwards and
forwards over the grave to keep the deceased from rising out

THE IDEAS OF DEATH AND RESUKRECTIO& 153

of it" And among the Tapis, "the corpse had all its limbs
tied fast, that the dead man might not be able to get up, and
infest his friends with his visits.*9

Apart from avowed convictions and assigned reasons,
abundant proofs are furnished by the behaviour ; as in the
instances last given. Let us observe the various acts prompted
by the belief that the dead return to life.

§ 83. First come attempts to revive the corpse — to bring
back the other-self. These are sometimes very strenuous,
and very horrible. Alexander says of the Arawfiks, that a
man who had lost two brothers " cut thorny twigs, and beat
the bodies all over, uttering at the same time ' Heia ! Heia ! '
as if he felt the pain of the flagellation. . . . Seeing that
it was impossible to reanimate the lifeless clay, he opened
their eyes, and beat the thorns into the eyeballs, and all over
the face." Similarly, the Hottentots reproach and ill-use the
dying, and those just dead, for going away.

This introduces us to the widely-prevalent practice of
talking to the corpse : primarily with the view of inducing
the wandering duplicate to return, but otherwise for purposes
of propitiation. The Fijian thinks that calling sometimes
brings back the other-self at death ; as does, too, the Banks'
Islander, by whom "the name of the deceased is loudly
called with the notion that the soul may hear and come
back ; " and we read that the Hos even call back the spirit of
a corpse which has been burnt. The Fantees address the
corpse " sometimes in accents of reproach for leaving them ;
at others beseeching his spirit to watch over and protect
them from evil" During th^ir lamentations, the Caribs
asked "the deceased to declare the cause of his departure
from the world." In Samoa "the friends of the deceased
. . . went with a present to the priest, and begged him
to get the dead man to speak and confess the sins which
caused his death ; " in Loango, a dead man's relatives ques-
tion him for two or three hours why he died ; and on the

154 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Oold Coast, " the dead person is himself interrogated " as to
the cause of his death. Even by the Hebrews " it was
believed that a dead man could hear anything." So, too,
when depositing food, etc. Among the Todas, the sacrificer
addressed the deceased, and, naming the cow killed, " said
they had sent her to accompany him." Moffat tells us
of the Bechuanas that, on bringing things to the grave, an old
woman speaks to the corpse the words — " There are all your
articles." And the Innuits visit the graves, talk to the dead,
leave food, furs, etc., saying — " Here, Nukertou, is something
to eat, and something to keep you warm."

As implied by the last case, this behaviour, originally
adopted towards those just dead, extends to those dead some
time. After a .burial among the Bagos, " a dead man's relations
come and talk to him under the idea that he hears what they
say." After burning, also, the same thing sometimes happens :
among the old Kooki& the ashes are "addressed by the
friends of the deceased, and his good qualities recited." The
Malagasy not only "address themselves in an impassioned
manner to the deceased," but, on entering the burial-place
inform the surrounding dead that a relative is come to join
them, and bespeak a good reception. Even by such compara-
tively-advanced peoples as those of ancient America, this
practice was continued, and, indeed, highly developed The
Mexicans, giving to the deceased certain papers, said: — " By
means of this you will pass without danger between the two
mountains which fight against each other. With the second,
they said : By means of this you will walk without obstruc-
tion along the road which is defended by the great serpent
With the third : By this you will go securely through the
place where there is the crocodile XochitonaL" So, too,
among the Peruvians, the young knights on their initiation,
addressed their embalmed ancestors, beseeching "them to
make their descendants as fortunate and brave as they had
been themselves."
After learning that death is at first regarded as one kind

THE IDEAS OE DEATH AND BESURRECTION. 155

of quiescent life, these proceedings no longer appear so
absurd. Beginning with the call, which wakes the sleeper
and sometimes seems effectual in reviving one who has
swooned, this speaking to the dead develops in various
directions ; and continues to be a custom even where imme-
diate re-animation is not looked for.

§ 84. The belief that death is a long-suspended animation,
has a further effect, already indicated in some of the fore-
going extracts. I refer to the custom of giving the corpse
food : in some cases actually feeding it ; and in most cases
leaving eatables and drinkables for its use.

Occasionally in a trance, the patient swallows morsels put
into his mouth. Whether or not such an experience led to
it, there exists a practice implying the belief that death is an
allied state. Kolff says of the Ami Islanders, that after one
has died, these Papuans try to make him eat ; " and when
they find that he does not partake of it, the mouth is filled
with eatables, siri, and arrack, until it runs down the body,
and spreads over the floor." Among the Tahitians, " if the
deceased was a chief of rank or fame, a priest or other
person was appointed to attend the corpse, and present food
to its mouth at different periods during the day." So is it
with the Malanaus of Borneo : when a chief dies, his slaves
attend to his imagined wants with the fan, sirh, and betel-
nut The Curumbars, between death and burning, frequently
drop a little grain into the mouth of the deceased.

Mostly, however, the aim is to give the deceased available
supplies whenever he may need them. In some cases he is '
thus provided for while awaiting burial; as among the
Fantees, who place a viands and wine for the use of the
departed spirit," near the sofa where the corpse is laid ; and
as among the Karens, by whom " meat is set before the body
as food," before burial Tahitians and Sandwich Islanders,
too, who expose their dead on stages, place fruits and water
beside them; and the New Zealanders, who similarly

156 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

furnish provisions, " aver that at night the spirit comes and
feeds from the sacred calabashes." Herrera tells us of
certain Brazilians, that they put the dead man in " the net
or hammock he used to lie in, and during the first days they
bring him meat, thinking he lies in his bed." And the belief
that the unburied required refreshment, was otherwise shown
by the Peruvians, who held a funeral feast, " expecting the
soul of the deceased, which, they say, must come to eat and
to drink."

So general is the placing of provisions in or upon the

grave, that an enumeration of the cases before me would be

wearisome : a few must suffice. In Africa may be instanced

the Sherbro people, who " are in the habit of carrying rice

and other eatables to the graves of their departed friends ; "

the Loango people, who deposit provisions at the tomb ; the

Inland Negroes, who put food and wine on the graves ; and

the sanguinary Dahouians, who place on the grave an iron

" asen," on which " water or blood, as a drink for the deceased,

is poured." Turning to Asia, we find the practice

among the Hill -tribes of India. The Bhils cook rice and

leave some where the body was burnt, and the rest at the

"threshold of his late dwelling . . . as provision for

the spirit ; " and kindred customs are observed by Santals,

Kookies, Karens. In America, of the uncivilized

races, may be named the Caribs ; who put the corpse "in a

cavern or sepulchre " with water and eatables. But it was

by the extinct civilized races that this practice was most

elaborated. The Chibchas, shutting up the dead in artificial

caves, wrapped them in fine mantles and placed round them

many maize cakes and mucuras of chicha [a drink] ; and of

the Peruvians, Tschudi tells us that " in front of the bodies

they used to place two rows of pots filled with quiana, maize,

potatoes, dried llama-flesh, etc."

The like is done even along with cremation. Among the
Kookies, the widow places " rice and vegetables on the ashes
of her husband." The ancient Central Americans had a

THE IDEAS OF DEATH AND RESURRECTION. 157

kindred habit Oviedo gives thus the statement of an
Indian: — ''When we are about to burn the body we put
beside it some boiled maize in a calabash, and attach it to
the body and burn it along with it" Though where the
corpse is destroyed by fire, the conception of re-animation in
its original form must have died out, this continued practice
of supplying food indicates a past time when re-animation
was conceived literally: an inference verified by the fact
that the Rookies, some of whom bury their dead while others
burn them, supply eatables in either case.

J 85. What is the limit to the time for the return of the
other-self? Hours have elapsed and the insensible have
revived ; days have elapsed and the insensible have revived ;
will they revive after weeks or months, and then want food ?
The primitive man cannot say. The answer is at least doubt-
ful, and he takes the safe course : he repeats the supplies of
food.

It is thus with the indigenes of India. Among the Bodo
and Dhimdls, the food and drink laid on the grave are
renewed after some days, and the dead is addressed ; among
the Rookies the corpse being " deposited upon a stage raised
under a shed," food and drink are " daily brought, and laid
before it" By American races this custom is carried much
further. Hall tells us of the Innuits that " whenever they
return to the vicinity of the kindred's grave, a visit is made
to it with the best of food " as a present ; and Schoolcraft
says most of the North American Indians " for one year visit
the place of the dead, and carry food and make a feast for
the dead, to feed the spirit of the departed." But in this, as
in other ways, the extinct civilized races of America provided
most carefully. In Mexico " after the burial, they returned
to the tomb for twenty days, and put on it food and roses ;
so they did after eighty days, and so on from eighty to
eighty." The aboriginal Peruvians used to open the tombs,
and renew the clothes and food which were placed in them.

158 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Still further were such practices carried with the embalmed
bodies of the Yncas. At festivals they brought provisions to
them, saying — " When you were alive you used to eat and
drink of this ; may your soul now receive it and feed on it,
wheresoever you may be." And Pedro Pizarro says they
brought out the bodies every day and seated them in* a row,
according to their antiquity. While the servants feasted,
they put the food of the dead on a fire, and their chiclui
vessels before them.

Here the primitive practice of repeating the supplies of
food for the corpse, in doubt how long the revival may be
delayed, has developed into a system of observances con-
siderably divergent from the original ones.

§ 86. Other sequences of the belief in re-animation, equally
remarkable, may next be named. If the corpse is still in
some way alive, like one in a trance, must it not breathe, and
does it not require warmth ? * These questions sundry races
practically answer in the affirmative.

The Guaranis " believe that the soul continued with the
body in the grave, for which reason they were careful to leave
room for it " . . . they would remove f< part of the earth,
lest it should lie heavy upon them" . . . and sometimes
" covered the face of the corpse with a concave dish, that
the soul might not be stifled." It is an Esquimaux belief
" that any weight pressing upon the corpse would give pain
to the deceased." And after the conquest, the Peruvians used
to disinter people buried in the churches, saying that the
bodies were very uneasy when pressed by the soil, and liked
better to stay in the open air.

A fire serves both to give warmth and for cooking; and
one or other of these conveniences is in some cases provided
for the deceased. By the Iroquois " a fire was built upon the
grave at night to enable the spirit to prepare its food."
Among the Brazilians it is the habit to " light fires by the
side of newly-made graves ... for the personal comfort

THE IDKA8 OF DEATH AND BESUBRECTION. 159

of the defunct" Of the Sherbro people (Coast Negroes)
Schon says that " frequently in cold or wet nights they will
light a fire" on the grave of a departed friend. By the
Western Australians, too, fires are kept burning on the burial
place for days ; and should the deceased be a person of dis-
tinction, such fires are lighted daily for three or four years.

§ 87. Resuscitation as originally conceived, cannot take
place unless there remains a body to be resuscitated. Expec-
tation of a revival is therefore often accompanied by recog-
nition of the need for preserving the corpse from injury.

Note, first, sundry signs of the conviction that if the
body has been destroyed resurrection cannot take place.
When Bruce tells us that among the Abyssinians, criminals
are seldom buried ; when we learn that by the Chibchas the
bodies of the greatest criminals were left unburied in the
fields ; we may suspect the presence of a belief that renewal
of life is prevented when the body is devoured. This belief
we elsewhere find avowed. "No more formidable punish*
ment to the Egyptian was possible than destroying his corpse,
its preservation being the main condition of immortality."
The New Zealanders held that a man who was eaten by them,
was destroyed wholly and for ever. The Damaras think that
dead men, if buried, " cannot rest in the grave. . . . You
must throw them away, and let the wolves eat them ; then
they won't come and bother us." The Matiainba negresses
believe that by throwing their husbands' corpses into the
water, they drown the souls : these would otherwise trouble
them. And possibly it may be under a similar belief that
the Kamschadales give corpses " for food to their dogs."

Where, however, the aim is not to insure annihilation of
the departed, but to further his well-being, anxiety is shown
that the corpse shall be guarded against ill-treatment This
anxiety prompts devices which vary according to the views
taken of the deceased's state of existence.

In some cases security is sought in secrecy, or inaccessi-

160 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

bility, or both. Over certain sepulchres the Chibchas
planted trees to conceal them. After a time the remains
of New Zealand chiefs were " secretly deposited by priests
in sepulchres on hill-tops, in forests, or in caves." The
Muruts of Borneo place the bones of their chiefs in boxes on
the ridges of the highest hills ; and sometimes the Tahitian3,
to prevent the bones from being stolen, deposited them
on the tops of almost inaccessible tnountains. Among the
Kaffirs, while the bodies of common people are exposed to be
devoured by wolves, those of chiefs are buried in their cattle-
pens. So, too, a Bechuana chief "is buried in his cattle-
pen, and all the cattle are driven for an hour or two around
and over the grave, so that it may be quite obliterated." Still
stranger was the precaution taken on behalf of the ruler of
Bogota. " They divert," says Simon, " the course of a river,
and in its bed make the grave. . . * As soon as the
cazique is buried, they let the stream return to its natural
course." The interment of Alaric was similarly conducted ;
and Cameron tells us that in the African state of Urua, the
like method of burying a king is still in use.

While in these cases the desire to hide the corpse and its
belongings from enemies, brute and human, predominates ; in
other cases the desire to protect the corpse against imagined
discomfort predominates. We have already noted the means
sometimes used to insure its safety without stopping its
breathing, supposed to be still going on; and probably a
kindred purpose originated the practice of raising the corpse
to a height above the ground. Sundry of the Polynesians
place dead bodies on scaffolds. In Australia, too, and in the
Andaman Islands, the corpse is occasionally thus disposed of.
Among the Zulus, while some bury and some burn, others
expose in trees ; and Dyaks and Kyans have a similar custom.
But it is in America, where the natives, as we see, betray in
other ways the desire to shield the corpse from pressure, that
exposure on raised stages is commonest The Dakotahs adopt
this method ; at one time it was the practice of the Iroquois ;

THE IDEAS OF DEATH AND BESUKRECTION. 161

Catlin, describing the Mandans as having scaffolds on which
" their c dead live/ as they term it/' remarks that they are
thus kept out of the way of wolves and dogs ; and School-
craft says the same of the Chippewas, Among South-
American tribes, a like combination of ends was sought by
using chasms and caverns as places of sepulture. The Caribs
did this. The Guiana Indians bury their dead, only in the
absence of cavities amid the rocks. The Chibchas interred in
a kind of " bobedas " or caves, which had been made for the
purpose. And the several modes of treating the dead adopted
by the ancient Peruvians, all of them attained, as far as might
be, both ends — protection, and absence of supposed incon-
venience to the corpse. Where they had not natural clefts
in the rocks, they made " great holes and excavations with
closed doors before them ;" or else they kept the embalmed
bodies in temples.

Leaving the New World, throughout which the primitive
conception of death as a long-suspended animation seems to
have been especially vivid, we find elsewhere less recognition
of any sensitiveness in the dead to pressure or want of air :
there is simply a recognition of the need for preventing
destruction by animals, or injury by men and demons. This
is the obvious motive for covering over the corpse; and,
occasionally, the assigned motive. Earth is sometimes not
enough; and then additional protection is given. By the
Mandingoes, " prickly bushes are laid upon " the grave, " to
prevent the wolves from digging up the body;" and the
Joloffs, a tribe of Coast Negroes, use the same precaution.
The Arabs keep out wild beasts by heaping stones over the
body; and the Esquimaux do the like. The Bodo and
Dhimals pile stones " upon the grave to prevent disturbance
by jackals/' etc. In Damara-land, a chief's tomb " consists
of a large heap of stones surrounded by an enclosure of
thorn-brushes." And now observe a remarkable

■

sequence. The kindred of the deceased, from real or pro-
fessed affection, and othera from fear of what he may do

M

183 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

when his double returns, join in augmenting the protective
mass. Among the Inland Negroes, large cairns are formed
over graves, by passing relatives who continually add stones
to the heap ; and it was a custom with the aborigines of San
Salvador " to throw a handful of earth, or a stone, upon the
grave of the distinguished dead, as a tribute to their memory.*
Obviously, in proportion as the deceased is loved, reverenced,
or dreaded, this process is carried further. Hence an in-
creasing of the heap for protective purposes, brings about an
increasing of it as a mark of honour or of power. Thus, the
Guatemala Americans " raised mounds of earth corresponding
in height with the importance of the deceased." Of the
Chibchas, Cieza says — " they pile up such masses of earth in
making their tombs, that they look like small hills;" and
Acosta, describing certain other burial mounds in those parts
as " heaped up during the mourning," adds— " as that extended
as long as drink was granted, the size of the tumulus shows
the fortune of the deceased." Ulloa makes a kindred remark
respecting the monuments of the Peruvians.

So that, beginning with the small mound necessarily re*
suiting from the displacement of earth by the buried body,
we come at length to such structures as the Egyptian pyramids :
the whole series originating in the wish to preserve the body
from injuries hindering resuscitation.

§ 88. Another group of customs having the same purpose,
must be named. Along with the belief that re-animation will
be prevented if the returning other-self finds a mutilated
corpse, or none at all ; there goes the belief that to insure
re-animation, putrefaction must be stopped. That this idea
leaves no traces among men in very low states, is probably
due to the fact that no methods of arresting decomposition
have been discovered by them. But among more advanced
races, we find proofs that the idea arises and that it leads to
action.

The prompting motive was shown by certain of the ancient

THE IDEAS OF DEATH AXD RESURRECTION. 163

Mexicans, who believed that "the dead were tcrrise again,
and when their bones were dry, they laid them -together in a
basket, and hung them up to a bough of a tree, that they
might not have to look, for them at the resurrection."
Similarly, the Peruvians, explaining their observances- to
Garcilasso, said — " We,, therefore, in order that we may not
have to search for our hair and nails at a time when' there
will be much hurry and confusion, place them in one place,
that they may be brought together more conveniently, and,
whenever it is possible,, we are also careful to' spit in one
place.*

With such indications to* guide tis, we cannot doubt Hie
meaning of the trouble taken to prevent decay. When we
read that in Africa the Loango people smoke corpses, and
that in America some of the Chibchas * dried the bodies of
their dead ia barbacoas on a slow fire ; " we must infer that
the aim is, or was, to* keep- the flesh in a state of integrity
against the time- of resuscitation.- And on finding that by
these same Chibchas, as also by some of the Mexicans, and
by the Peruvians, the bodies of kings and caziques were em-
balmed; we must conclude that embalming was adopted
simply as a more effectual method of achieving the same end :.
especially after noting that the preservation was great in pro-
portion as the rank was- high; as Lb shown by Acosta's remark
that " the body [of an Ynca] was so complete and well pre-
served, by means of a sort of bitumen, that it appeared to be
alive.*

Proof that like ideas suggested the like practices o£ the
ancient Egyptians, has already been givea.

§ 89. Some further funeral rites, indirectly implying the
belief in resurrection, must be added ; partly because they
lead to certain customs hereafter to be explained. I refer to
the bodily mutilations which, in so many cases, are marks of
mourning.

We read in the Iliad that at the funeral of Patroclus, the

li 2

164 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Myrmidons " heaped all the corpse with their hair that they
cut off and threw thereon ; * further, that Achilles placed
"a golden lock" in the hands of the corpse; and that this
act went along with the dedication of himself to avenging
Patroclus, and with the promise to join him afterward. Hair
is thus used as a gage : a portion of the body is given as
symbolizing a gift of the whole. And this act of affection,
or mode of propitiation, or both, prevails widely among un-
civilized races.

As further showing what the rite means, I may begin with
Bonwick's statement that, by Tasmanian women, " the hair,
cut off in grief, was thrown upon the mound ; " and may add
the testimony of Winterbottom respecting the Soosoos, that
one grave was seen — that of a woman — with her eldest
daughter's hair placed upon it. Where we do not

learn what becomes of the hair, we yet in numerous cases
learn that it is cut off. Among the Coast Negroes a dead
man's more immediate relations shave off all the hair ; and
some Damaras, on the death of a valued friend, do the like.
Similarly with the Mpongwe, the Kaffirs, and the Hottentots.
In Hawaii and Samoa the hair is cut or torn ; the Tongans
shave the head ; the New Zealanders, in some cases, clip half
the head-hair short ; among the Tannese " cutting off the
hair is a sign of mourning ; " and on the death of the late
Queen of Madagascar, " the entire country round Antana-
narivo was clean clipped, except the Europeans and some
score or so of privileged Malagasy." In America it is the
same. A Greenlander's widow sacrifices her tresses; the
near relatives of a dead Chinook cut their hair off; and the
Chippewayans, the Comanches, the Dakotahs, the Mandans,
the Tupis, have the same custom. The significance

of this rite as a sign of subordination, made to propitiate the
presently-reviving dead, is shown by sundry facts. Among
the Todas, there is a cutting off of the hair at a death, but
only " by the younger members to denote their respect for
their seniors;" and among the Arabs, "on the death of a

THE IDEAS OF DEATH AND RESUKRECTION. 1G5

father, the children of both sexes cut off their kerouns or
tresses of hair in testimony of grief/' By South Americans,
both political and domestic loyalty axe thus marked. We
read that among the Abipones, " on the death of a cacique,
all the men under his authority shave their long hair as
a sign of grief." So was it with the Peruvians : the Indians
of Llacta-cunya made " great lamentations over their dead,
and the women who are not killed, with all the servants, are
shorn of their hair." That is to say, those wives who did
not give themselves wholly to go with the dead, gave their
hair as a pledge.

Like in their meanings are the accompanying self-
bleedings, gashings, and amputations. At funerals, the
Tasmanians "lacerated their bodies with sharp shells and
stones." The Australians, too, cut themselves; and so do,
or did, the Tahitians, the Ton^ans, and the New Zealanders.
We read that among the Greenlanders the men "some-
times gash their bodies;" and that the Chinooks "dis-
figure and lacerate their bodies." The widows of the
Comanches "cut their arms, legs, and bodies in gashes,
until they are exhausted by the loss of blood, and
frequently commit suicide;" and the Dakotahs "not un-
frequently gash themselves and amputate one or more
fingers." In this last instance we are introduced

to the fact that not blood only, but sometimes a portion
of the body, is given, where the expression of reverence or
obedience is intended to be great In Tonga, on the death
of a high priest, the first joint on the little finger is ampu-
tated ; and when a king or chief in the Sandwich Islands
died, the mutilations undergone by his subjects were —
tatooing a spot on the tongue, or cutting the ears, or knocking
oat one of the front teeth. On remembering that

blood, and portions of the body, are offered in religious
sacrifice— on reading that the Dahomans sprinkle human
blood on the tombs of their old kings, to get the aid of their
ghosts in war— on finding that the Mexicans gave their idols

16ft THE DATA 07 fiOfflOLOOT.

their blood to drink, that some priests bled themselves daily,
and that even male infants were bled — on being told that
the like was done in Yucatan, and Guatemala, and San
Salvador, and that the coast-people of Peru offered blood
alike to idols and on sepulchres; we cannot doubt that
propitiation of the dead man's double is the original purpose
of these funeral rites.

That such is the meaning is, indeed, in one case
distinctly asserted. Turner tells us that a Samoan cere-
mony on the occasion of a decease, was " beating the head
with stones till the blood runs; and this they called 'an
offering of blood ' for the dead."

§ 90. All these various observances, then, imply the con-
viction that death is a long-suspended animation. The
endeavours to revive the corpse by ill-usage; the calling
it by name, and addressing to it reproaches or inquiries ; the
endeavours to feed it, and the leaving with it food and
drink; the measures taken to prevent its discomfort from
pressure and impediments to breathing; the supplying of
fire to cook by, or to keep off cold; the care taken to
prevent injury by wild beasts, and to arrest decay ; and even
these various self-injuries symbolizing subordination; — all
unite to show this belief. And this belief is avowed.

Thus in Africa, the Ambamba people think that "men
and youths are thrown by the fetich priests into a torpid
state lasting for three days, and sometimes buried in the
fetich-house for many years, but being subsequently restored
to life." Referring to a man. who had died a few days before
among the Inland Negroes, Lander says " there was a public-
declaration that his tutelary god had resuscitated him."
And Livingstone was thought by a Zambesi chief, to be an
Italian, Siriatomba, risen from the dead. Turning to Poly-
nesia, we find, among the incongruous beliefs of the Fijians,
one showing a transition between the primitive idea of &
renewed ordinary life, and the idea of another life elsewhere :

THE IDEAS OF DEATH AND RESUHRECITON. 1C7

they think that death became universal because the children
of the first man did not dig him up again, as one of the
gods commanded. Had they done so, the god said all men
would have lived again after a few days' interment And
then, in Pern, where so much care was taken of the corpse,
resuscitation was an article of faith. " The Yncas believed
in a universal resurrection — not for glory or punishment,
but for a renewal of this temporal life."

Just noting past signs of this belief among higher races —
such as the fact that " in Moslem law, prophets, martyrs, and
saints are not supposed to be dead : their property, there-
fore, remains their own;* and such as the fact that in
Christian Europe, distinguished men, from Charlemagne
down to the first Napoleon, have been expected to reappear ;
let us note the still existing form of this beliet It differs
from the primitive form less than we suppose. I do not
mean merely that in saying " by one man sin entered into
the world, and death by sin," the civilized creed implies that
death is not a natural event; just as clearly as do the
savage creeds which ascribe death to some difference of
opinion among the gods, or disregard of their injunctions.
Nor do I refer only to the further evidence that in our State
Frayer-Book, bodily resurrection is unhesitatingly asserted ;
and that poems of more modern date contain descriptions of
the dead rising again. I have in view facts showing that,
even still, many avow this belief as clearly as it was lately
avowed by a leading ecclesiastic. On July oth, 1874, the
Bishop of 'Lincoln preached against cremation, as tending to
undermine men's faith in bodily resurrection. Not only, in
common with the primitive man, does Dr. Wordsworth hold
that the corpse of each buried person will be resuscitated ;
but he also holds, in common with the primitive man,
that destruction of the corpse will prevent resuscitation.
Had he been similarly placed, the bishop would doubtless
have taken the same course as the Tnca Atahuallpa, who
turned Christian in order to be hanged instead of burnt

1G8 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY,

because (he said to his wives and to the Indians) if his body
was not burnt, his father, the Sun, would raise him again.

And now observe, finally, the modification by which the
civilized belief in resurrection is made partially unlike the
savage belie! There is no abandonment of it: the antici-
pated event is simply postponed. Supernaturalism, gradually
discredited by science, transfers its supernatural occurrences
to remoter places in time or space. As believers in special
creations suppose them to happen, not where we are, but in
distant parts of the world ; as miracles, admitted not to take
place now, are said to have taken place during a past dispen-
sation ; so, re-animation of the body, no longer expected as
immediate, is expected at an indefinitely far-off time. The
idea of death differentiates slowly from the idea of temporary
insensibility. At first revival is looked for in a few hours, or
in a few days, or in a few years ; and gradually, as death
becomes more definitely conceived, revival is not looked for
till the end of all things.

CHAPTER XIIL

TIIE IDEAS OP SOULS, GHOSTS, SPIRITS, DEMONS, ETC.

§ 91. The traveller Mango Park, after narrating a sudden
rencontre with two negro horsemen, who galloped off in
tenor, goes on to say: — * Ahout a mile to the westward, they
fell in with my attendants, to whom they related a frightful
stoiy: it seems their fears had dressed me in the flowing
robes of a tremendous spirit ; and one of them affirmed that
when I made my appearance, a cold blast of wind came pour-
ing down upon him from the sky, like so much cold water."

I quote this passage to remind the reader how effectually
fear, when joined with a pre-established belief, produces
illusions supporting that belief ; and how readily, therefore,
the primitive man finds proof that the dead reappear.

Another preliminary: — A clergyman known to me, ac-
cepting in full the doctrine of the natural evolution of
species, nevertheless professes to accept literally the state-
ment that "God formed man of the dust of the ground,
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life:" an in-
congruity of beliefs which may pair off with that of Eoman
Catholics who, seeing, touching, and tasting the unchanged
wafer, yet hold it to be flesh.

These acceptances of irreconcilable conceptions, even by
cultivated members of civilized communities, I instance as
suggesting how readily primitive men, low in intelligence
and without knowledge, may entertain conceptions which are
mutually destructive. It is difficult to picture them as
thinking that the dead, though buried, come back in tangible
shapes. And where they assert that the duplicate goes away,

170 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

leaving the corpse behind, there seems no consistency in the
accompanying supposition that it needs the food and drink
they provide, or wants clothing and fire. For if they conceive
it as aeriform or ethereal, then how can they suppose it to
consume solid food, as in many cases they do ; and if they
regard it as substantial, then how do they conceive it to
co-exist with the corpse, and to leave the grave without dis-
turbing its covering ?

But after reminding ourselves, as above, of the extremes
of credulity and illogicality possible even in educated men
of developed races, we shall infer that the primitive man's
ideas of the other-self, impossible though they look to us,
can nevertheless be entertained.

§ 92. Typical as it is, I must set out with the often-cited
notion of the Australians, so definitely expressed by the con-
demned criminal who said that after his execution he should
jump up a white-fellow and have plenty of sixpences. Many
have heard of the case of Sir George Grey, who was recog-
nized and caressed by an Australian woman as her deceased
son come back; and equally illustrative is the case of
Mrs. Thomson, who, regarded as the returned other-self of a
late member of the tribe, was sometimes spoken of by the
Australians she lived with as " Poor thing ! she is nothing —
only a ghost!" Again, a settler with a bent arm, being
identified as a lately-deceased native who had a bent arm,
was saluted with — "0, my Balludery, you jump up white
fellow ! " And, giving other instances, Bonwick quotes Davis's
explanation of this Australian belief, as being that black men,
when skinned before eating them, are 6een to be white ; and
that therefore the whites are taken for their ghosts. But a
like belief is elsewhere entertained without this hypothesis.
The New Caledonians " think white men are the spirits of
the dead, and bring sickness." "At Darnley Island, the
Prince of Wales' Islands, and Cape York, the word used to
signify a white man also means a ghost." Kruinen call

THE IDEAS OP SOUL8, GHOSTS, SPIRITS, DEMONS, ETC. 171

Europeans u the ghost-tribe ;" a people in Old Calabar call
them "spirit-men;" and the Mpongwe of the Gaboon call
them * ghosts.*

The implication, put by these many cases beyond doubt,
that the duplicate is at first conceived as no less material
than its original, is shown with equal clearness in other
ways among other peoples. Thus the Karens say " the L&
[spirit] sometimes appears after death, and cannot then be
distinguished from the person himself." The Araucanians
think "the soul, when separated from the body, exercises
in another life the same functions it performed in this, with
no other difference except that they are unaccompanied with
fatigue or satiety." The inhabitants of Quimbaya " acknow-
ledged that there was something immortal in man, but they
did not distinguish the soul from the body." The distinct
statement of the ancient Peruvians was that " the souls must
rise out of their tombs, with all that belonged to their bodies."
They joined with this the belief "that the souls of the
dead wandered up and down and endure cold, thirst, hunger,
and travell." And along with the practice of lighting firos
at chiefs' graves, there went, in Samoa, the belief that the
spirits of the unburied dead wandered about crying "Oh,
how cold ! oh ! how cold P

Besides being expressed, this belief is implied by acts.
The practice of some Peruvians, who scattered "flour of
maize, or quinua, about the dwelling, to see, as they say, by
the footsteps whether the deceased has been moving about/'
is paralleled elsewhere : even among the Jews, sifted ashes
were used for tracing the footsteps of demons ; and by some
of them, demons were regarded as the spirits of the wicked
dead. A like idea must exist among those Negroes men-
tioned by Bastian, who put thorns in the paths leading to
their villages, to keep away demons. Elsewhere, the alleged
demands for provisions by the dead have the same implica-
tion. " Give us some food, that we may eat and set out," say
certain Amaiulu spirits, who represent themselves as going to

172 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

fight the spirits of another place. Among the North- Ameri-
can Indians, the spirits axe supposed to smoke ; and in Fiji,
it is said that the gods "eat the souls of those who are
destroyed by men " — first roasting them. It is also a Fijian
belief that some " souls are killed by men :" that is, the second
self may have to be fought in battle like the first So, too, by
the Amazulu, " it is supposed that the Amatongo, or the dead,
can die again. . . . We have allusions to their being killed
in battle, and of their being carried away by the river." This
belief in the substantiality of the double, was shared by the
ancient Hindus, by the Tatars, and by early Europeans,

§ 93. The transition from this original conception, to the
less crude conceptions which come later, cannot be clearly
traced ; but there are signs of a progressive modification.

While the Tahitians hold that most spirits of the dead are
u eaten by the gods," not at once, but by degrees (implying
separability of the parts); they hold that others are not
eaten, and sometimes appear to the survivors in dreams : this
re-appearance being probably the ground for the inference
that they are not eaten. Again, a substantiality that is
partial if not complete, is implied by the ascription to ghosts
of organs of sense. The Yakuts leave conspicuous marks to
show the spirits where the offerings are left ; and the Indians
of Yucatan think " that the soul of the deceased returns to
the world, and in order that on leaving the tomb it may not
lose the way to the domestic hearth, they mark the path from
the hut to the tomb with chalk." The materiality implied
by physical vision, is similarly ascribed by the Nicobar
people, who think that the " malignant spirits [of the dead]
are effectually prevented from taking their abode again in
the village, by a screen made of pieces of cloth, which keeps
out of their baneful sight the place where the houses stand."

The elaborated doctrine of the Egyptians regarded each
person as made up of several separate entities — soul, spirit,
ghost, &c. The primary one was a partially-material dupli-

TITE IDEAS OF SOULS, GHOSTS, SPIRITS, DEMONS, ETC. 173

cate of the body. M. Maspero writes : — " Le ka, qui j'appel-
lerai le Double, etait comme un second exemplaire du corps
en une mati&re moins dense que la mati&re corporelle, une
projection coloree mais alrienne de 1'individu, le reproduisant
trait pour trait, . . . le tombeau entier, s'appelait la maisan
du DvubU"

The Greek conception of ghosts was of allied kind* " It is
only," says Thirlwall, " after their strength has been repaired
by the blood of a slaughtered victim, that they recover
xeason and memory for a time, can recognize their living
friends, and feel anxiety for those they have left on earth."
That these dwellers in Hades have some substantiality, is
implied both by the fact that they come trooping to drink
the sacrificial blood, and by the fact that Ulysses keeps them
back with his sword. Moreover, in this world of the dead
he beholds Tityus having his liver torn by vultures;
speaks of Agamemnon's soul as " shedding the warm tear ; "
and describes the ghost of Sisyphus as sweating from his.
efforts in thrusting up the still-gravitating stone. And here
let me quote a passage from the Iliad, showing how the
primitive notion becomes modified. On awaking after,
dreaming of, and vainly trying to embrace, Patroclus,
Achilles says : — " Ay me, there remaineth then even in the
house of Hades, a spirit and phantom of the dead, albeit the
life be not anywise therein." Yet, being described as speaking
and lamenting, the ghost of Patroclus is conceived as having
the materiality implied by such acts. Thus, in the mind of
the Homeric age, the dream, while continuing to furnish
proof of an after-existence, furnished experiences which,
when reasoned upon, necessitated an alteration in the idea of
the other-self : complete substantiality was negatived.

Nor do the conceptions which prevailed among the
Hebrews appear to have been different. We find ascribed,
now substantiality, now insubstantiality, and now something
between the two. The resuscitated Christ was described as
having wounds that admitted of tactual examination ; and yet

174 THE DATA OF BOCIOLOGT.

as passing unimpeded through a closed door or through walk.
And their supernatural beings generally, whether revived
dead or not, were similarly conceived. Here angels dining
with Abraham, or pulling Lot into the house, apparently
possess complete corporeity - there both angels and demons
are spoken of as swarming invisibly in the surrounding air,
thus being incorporeal; while elsewhere they are said to have
wings, implying locomotion by mechanical action, and are
represented as rubbing against, and wearing out, the dresses
of Rabbins in the synagogue.

Manifestly the stories about ghosts universally accepted
among ourselves in past times, involved the same thought.
The ability to open doors, to clank chains and make other
noises, implies considerable coherence of the ghost's sub-
stance ; and this coherence must have been assumed, how-
ever little the assumption was avowed Moreover, the still
extant belief in the torture of souls by fire similarly pre-
supposes some kind of materiality.

§ 94. As implied above, we find, mingled with these ideas
of semi-substantial duplicates, and inconsistently held along
with them, the ideas of aeriform and shadowy duplicates.
The contrast between the dying man and the man just dead,
has naturally led to a conception of the departed in terms of
the difference : each marked difference generating a correla-
tive conception.

The heart ceases to beat Is then the heart the other-
self which goes away ? Some races think it is. Bobadilla
asked the Indians of Nicaragua — "Do those who go
upwards, live there as they do here, with the same body and
head and the rest ? " To which the reply was — " Only the
heart goes there/1 And further inquiry brought out a con-
fused idea that' there are two hearts, and that "that heart
which goes is what makes them live." So, too, among the
Chancas of ancient Peru, Cieza says, soul " they called Sonccon^
a word which also means heart*" More oonspicu-

THE IDEAS OF 60ULS, GHOSTS, SPIRITS, DEMONS, ETC. 175

oos as the cessation of breathing is than the cessation of the
heart's action, it leads to the more prevalent identification of
die departed other-self with the departed breath. Among
the Central Americans this identification co-existed with
the last To one of Bobadilla's questions an Indian replied
— "When they are dying, something like a person called
yulio, goes off their month, and goes there; where that man
and woman stay, and there it stays like a person and does
not die, and the body remains here." That the same belief
has been generally held by higher races is too well known
to need proof. I will name only the graphic presentation
of it in illustrated ecclesiastical works of past times ; as in
the MortiloguSy of the Prior Conrad Beitter, printed in
1508, which contains woodcuts of dying men out of whose
mouths smaller figures of themselves are escaping, and being
received, in one case by an angel, and in another by a
devil. Of direct identifications of the soul with the

shadow, there are many examples ; such as that of the
Greenlanders, who " believe in two souls, namely, the shadow
and the breath." It will suffice, in further support of ancient
examples, to cite the modern example of the Amazulu, as
given by Bp. Callaway. Looking at the facts from the
missionary point of view, and thus inverting the order of
genesis, he says — " Scarcely anything can more clearly prove
the degradation which has fallen on the natives than their not
understanding that iaitunri meant the spirit, and not merely
the shadow cast by the body ; for there now exists among
them the strange belief that the dead body casts no shadow."
The conceptions of the other-self thus resulting, tending
to supplant the conceptions of it as quite substantial, or half
substantial, because less conspicuously at variance with the
evidence, lead to observances implying the belief that ghosts
need spaces to pass through, though not large ones. The
Iroquois leave "a slight opening in the grave for it" [the
soul] to re-enter ; " in Fraser Island (Great Sandy Island),
Queensland . • . they place a sheet of bark over the corpse*

176 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

near tbe surface, to leave room, as they say, for the spirit or
ghost to move about and come up;" and in other cases, with
the same motive, holes are bored in coffins. Of the Ansayrii,
Walpole says — "In rooms dedicated to hospitality, several
square holes are left, so that each spirit may come or depart
without meeting another,"

§ 95. Were there no direct evidence that conceptions of
the other-self are thus derived, the indirect evidence fur-
nished by language would suffice. This comes to us from all
parts of the world, from peoples in all stages.

Describing the Tasmanians, Milligan says — " To these
guardian spirits they give the generic name ' Warrawah/ an
aboriginal term, ♦ . , signifying shade, shadow, ghost, or
apparition." In the Aztec language, ehecatl means both air, life,
and soul. The New England tribes called the soul ohemung,
the shadow. In Quiche, natvb, and in Esquimaux, tarnak,
severally express both these ideas. And in the Mohawk
dialect, atouritz, the sohl, is from atourion, to breathe. like
equivalences have been pointed out in the vocabularies of the
Algonquins, the Araw&ks, the Abipones, the Basutos, That
the speech of the civilized by certain of its words identifies
soul with shade, and by others identifies soul with breath,
is a familiar fact. I need not here repeat the evidence
detailed by Mr. Tylor, proving that both the Semitic and
the Aryan languages show the like original conceptions,

§ 96. And now we come to certain derivative conceptions
of great significance. Let us take first, the most obvious.

Quadrupeds and birds are observed to breathe, as men
breathe. If, then, a man's breath is that other-self which
goes away at death, the animal's breath, which also goes
away at death, must be its other-self : the animal has a ghost
Even the primitive man, who reasons but a step beyond the
facts directly thrust on his attention, cannot avoid drawing
this conclusion. And similarly where there exists the belief

THE IDEAS OF SOULS, GHOSTS, SPIRITS, DEMONS, ETC. 177

that men's shadows are their souls, it is inferred the shadows
of animals, which follow them and mimic them in like ways,
must be the souk of the animals.

The savage in a low stage, stops here; but along with
advance in reasoning power there is revealed a further impli-
cation. Though unlike men and familiar animals in not
having any perceptible breath (unless, indeed, perfume is re-
garded as breath,) plants are like men and animals in so far
that they grow and reproduce : they flourish, decay, and die,
after leaving offspring. But plants cast shadows; and as
their branches sway in the gale, their shadows exhibit corre-
sponding agitations. Hence, consistency demands an exten.
sion of the belief in duality : plants, too, have souls. This
inference, drawn by somewhat advanced races, as the Dyaks,
the Karens, and some Polynesians, leads among them to pro-
pitiate plant-spirits. And it persists in well-known forms
through succeeding stages of social evolution.

But this is not alL Having gone thus far, advancing
intelligence has to go further. For shadows are possessed
not by men, animals, and plants only: other things have
them* Hence, if shadows are souls, these other things must
have souls. And now mark that we do not read of this
belief among the lowest races. It does not exist among
the Fuegians, the Australians, the Tasmanians, the Anda-
manese, the Bushmen; or, if it does, it is not sufficiently
pronounced to have drawn the attention of travellers. But it
is a belief that arises in the more intelligent races, and
develops. The Karens think " every natural object has its
lord or god, in the signification of its possessor or presiding
spirit:" even inanimate things that are useful, such as
instruments, have each of them its L& or spirit. The Chip-
pewas u believe that animals have souls, and even that
inorganic substances, such as kettles, etc., have in them a
similar essence." By the Fijians who, as we have seen
(§ 41), are among the most rational of barbarians, this doc-
trine is fully elaborated. They ascribe souls " not only to all

178 THE DATA. OF SOCIOLOGY.

mankind, but to animals, plants, and even houses, canoes,
and all mechanical contrivances ;" and this ascription is con-
sidered by T. Williams to have the origin here alleged. He
says — " probably this doctrine of shadows has to do with the
notion of inanimate objects having spirits." Peoples in more
advanced states have drawn the same conclusion. The
Mexicans " supposed that every object had a god ;" and that
its possession of a shadow was the basis for this supposition,
we may reasonably conclude on observing the like belief
avowedly thus explained by a people adjacent to the
Chibchm Piedrahita writes : —

The Laehu " worshipped every stone as a god, as they said that they
had all been men, and that all men were converted into stones after
death, and that a day was coming when all stones would be raised as
men. They also worshipped their own shadow, so that they always
had their god with them, and saw him when it was daylight. And
though they knew that the shadow was produced by the light and an
interposed object, they replied that it was done by the Sun to give them
gods. . . . And when the shadows of trees and stones were pointed
out to them, it had no effect, as they considered the shadows of the
trees to be gods of the trees, and the shadows of the stones the gods of
the stones, and therefore the gods of their gods."

These facts, and especially the last, go far to show that the
belief in object-souls, is a belief reached at a certain stage of
intellectual evolution as a corollary from a pre-established
belief respecting the souls of men. Without waiting for the
more special proofs to be hereafter given, the reader will
see what was meant in § 65, by denying that the primitive
man could have so retrograded to an intelligence below
that of brutes, as originally to confuse the animate with the
inanimate ; and he will see some ground for the accompany-
ing assertion that such confusion of them as his developing
conceptions show, he is betrayed into by inference from a
natural but erroneous belief previously arrived at

§ 97. Returning from this parenthetical remark, it will be
useful, before closing, to note the various classes of souls and
spirits which this system of interpretation originates.

THE IDEAS OF SOULS, CtHOSTS, SPRITS, DEMONS, ETC. 179

We have, first, the souls of deceased parents and relatives.
These, taking in the minds of survivors vivid shapes, are
thus distinguished from the souls of ancestors; which, ac-
cording to their remoteness, pass into vagueness : so implying
ideas of souls individualized in different degrees. We

have, next, the wandering doubles of persons who are asleep,
or more profoundly insensible. That these are recognized as
a class, is shown by Schweinfurth's account of the Bongo ;
who think that old people " may apparently be lying calmly
in their huts, whilst in reality they are taking counsel with
the spirits of mischief " in the woods* Further, we

have, in some cases, the souls of waking persons which have
temporarily left them: instance the belief of the Karens,
that " every human being has his guardian spirit walking by
his side, or wandering away in search of dreamy adventures ;
and if too long absent, he must be called back with offer-
ings** The recognition of such distinctions is clearly shown
us by the Malagasy, who have different names for the ghost
of a living person and the ghost of a dead person.

Another classification of souls or spirits is to be noted..
There are those of friends and those of enemies — those belong-.
ing to members of the tribe, and those belonging to members
of other tribes. These groups are not completely coinci-
dent; for there are the ghosts of bad men within, the tribe,
as well as the ghosts of foes outside of it; and there are in
some cases the malignant spirits of those who have remained
nnbaried. But, speaking generally, the good and the bad
spirits have these origins; and the amity or the enmity
ascribed to them after death, is but a continuance- of the
amity or the enmity shown by them during life.

We must add to these the souls of other things — beasts,
plants, and inert objects. The Mexicans ascribed the " bless-
ing of immortality to the souls of brutes ;" and the Malagasy
think the ghosts " of both men and beasts reside in a great
mountain in the south." But though animal-souls are not
uncommonly recognized; and though Fijians and others

a 2

180 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

believe that the souls of destroyed utensils go to the other
world ; yet souls of these classes are not commonly regarded
as interfering in human affairs.

§ 98. It remains only to note the progressive differentia*
tion of the conceptions of body and soul, which the facts
show us. As, in the last chapter, we saw that, along with the
growth of intelligence, the idea of that permanent insensi-
bility we call death is gradually differentiated from the ideas
of those temporary insensibilities which simulate it, till at
length it is marked off as radically unlike ; so, here, we see
that the ideas of a substantial self and an unsubstantial self,
acquire their strong contrast by degrees ; and that increasing
knowledge, joined with a growing critical faculty, determine
the change.

Thus when the Basutos, conceiving the other-self as quite
substantial, think that if a man walks on the river-bank, a
crocodile may seize his shadow in the water and draw him
in ; we may see that the irreconcilability of their ideas is so
great, that advancing physical knowledge must modify them
— must cause the other-self to be conceived as less sub-
stantial. Or again, if, on the one hand, the Fijian ascribes to
the soul such materiality that, during its journey after death,
it is liable to be seized by one of the gods and killed by
smashing against a stone ; and if, on the other hand, he holds
that each man has two souls, his shadow and his reflection ; it
is manifest that his beliefs are so incongruous that criticism
must ultimately change them. Consciousness of the incon-
gruity, becoming clearer as thought becomes more deliberate,
leads to successive compromises. The second self, originally
conceived as equally substantial with the first, grows step by
step less substantial : now it is semi-solid, now it is aeriform,
now it is ethereal. And this stage finally reached, is one in
which there cease to be ascribed any of the properties by
which we know existence : there remains only the assertion
of an existence that is wholly undefined.

CHAPTER XIV,

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER IJFE.

§ 99. Belief ih re-animation implies belief in a subsequent
life. The primitive man, incapable of deliberate thought,
and without language fit for deliberate thinking, has to con-
ceive this as best he may. Hence a chaos of ideas concern-
ing the after-state of the dead. Among tribes who say that
death is annihilation, we yet commonly find .such inconse-
quent beliefs as those of some Africans visited by Schwein-
furth, who shunned certain caves from dread of the evil
spirits of fugitives who had died in them.

Incoherent as the notions of a future life are at first, we
have to note their leading traits, and the stages of their
development into greater coherence. The belief is originally
qualified and partial In the last chapter we saw that some
think resuscitation depends on the treatment of the corpse —
that destruction of it causes annihilation. Moreover, the
second life may be brought to a violent end : the dead man's
double may be killed afresh in battle ; or may be destroyed
on its way to the land of the dead ; or may be devoured by
the gods. Further, there is in some cases a caste-limitation :
in Tonga it is supposed that only the chiefs have souls.
Elsewhere, resuscitation is said to depend on conduct and its
incidental results. Some races think another life is earned
by bravery; as do the Comanches, who anticipate it for
good men — those who are daring in taking scalps and steal-

182 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

ing horses. Conversely, "a mild and unwarlike tribe of
Guatemala . . . were persuaded that to die by any other
than a natural death, was to forfeit all hope of life hereafter,
and therefore left the bodies of the slain to the beasts and
vultures." Or, again, revival is contingent on the pleasure
of the gods ; as among the ancient Aryans, who prayed for
another life and made sacrifices to obtain it And there is
in many cases a tacit supposition that the second life is
ended by a second and final death.

Before otherwise considering the primitive conception of
a future life, we will glance at this last trait — its duration.

§ 100. One of the experiences suggesting another life,
is also one of the experiences suggesting a limit to it;
namely, the appearance of the dead in dreams. Sir John
Lubbock has been, I believe, the first to point out this.
Manifestly the dead persons recognized in dreams, must be
persons who were known to the dreamers; and consequently,
the long dead, ceasing to be dreamt of, cease to be thought
of as still existing. Savages who, like the Manganjas,
" expressly ground their belief in a future life on the fact
that their friends visit them in their sleep ; " naturally draw
the inference that when their friends cease to visit them in
their sleep, they have ceased to be. Hence the contrast
which Sir John Lubbock quotes from Du Cbailht Ask a
negro " where is the spirit of his great-grandfather, he says
he does not know ; it is done. Ask him about the spirit of
his father or brother who died yesterday, then he is full of
fear and terror." And as we shall hereafter see, when
dealing with another question, the evidence furnished by
dreams establishes in the minds of the Amazulu, a like
marked distinction between the souls of the lately dead
and the souls of the long dead ; which they think have died
utterly.

How the notion of a temporary after-life grows into the
notion of an enduring after-life, we must leave unconsidered.

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER LIFE. 183

For present purposes it suffices to point out that the notion
of an enduring after-life is reached through stages.

§ 101. What is the character of this after-life: here
believed in vaguely and in a variable way ; here believed in
as lasting for a time ; here believed in as permanent ?

Sundry of the funeral rites described in a foregoing
chapter, imply that the life which goes on after death is
supposed to differ in nothing from this life. The Chinooks
assert that at night the dead " awake and get up to search
for food." No doubt it is with a like belief in the necessity
for satisfying their material wants, that the Comanches
think the dead "are permitted to visit the earth at night,
but must return at daylight" — a superstition reminding us
of one still current in Europe. Among South American
tribes, too, the second life is conceived as an unvaried con-
tinuation of the first : death being, as the Yucatan Indians
say, "merely one of the accidents of life." The Tupis
buried the dead body in the house " in a sitting posture
with food before it ; for there were some who believed that
the spirit went to sport among the mountains, and returned
there to eat and to take rest"

Where the future life is thought of as divided from the
present by a more decided break, we still find it otherwise
contrasted in little or nothing. What is said of the Fijians
may be said of others. After death they "plant, live in
families, fight, and in short do much as people in this
world." Let us note the general agreement on this point.

§ 102. The provisions they count upon, differ from the
provisions they have been accustomed to, only in being
better and more abundant The Innuits expect to feast on
reindeer-meat; after death the Creek goes where "game is
plenty and goods very cheap, where corn grows all the year
round and the springs of pure water are never dried up ;"
the Comanches look forward to hunting buffaloes which are

184 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

♦

" abundant and fat ; " while the Patagonians hope " to enjoy
the happiness of being eternally drunk." The conception
differs elsewhere only as the food, etc., differs. The people of
the New Hebrides believe that in the next life " the cocoa-
nuts and the bread-fruit are finer in quality, and so abundant
in quantity as never to be exhausted." Arriaga says that the
Peruvians " do not know, either in this life or in the other,
any greater happiness than to have a good farm wherefrom
to eat and to drink." And pastoral peoples show a kindred
adjustment of belief: the Todas think that after death their
buffaloes join them, to supply milk as before.

With like food and drink there go like occupations. The
Tasmanians expected "to pursue the chase with unwearied
ardour and unfailing success." Besides killing unlimited
game in their heaven, the Dakotahs look forward to "war with
their former enemies." And, reminded as we thus are of the

■

daily fighting and feasting anticipated by the Scandinavians,
we are shown the prevalence of such ideas among peoples
remote in habitat and race. To see how vivid these ideas
are, we must recall the observances they entail.

§ 103. Books of travel have familiarized most readers with
the custom of burying a dead man's movables with him.
This custom elaborates as social development goes through
its earlier stages. Here are a few illustrations, joined with
the constructions we must put upon them.

The dead savage, having to hunt and to fight, must be
armed. Hence the deposit of weapons and implements with
the corpse. The Tongous races have these, with other be-
longings, " placed on their grave, to be ready for service the
moment they awake from what they consider to be theii
temporary repose." And a like course is followed by the
Kalmucks, the Esquimaux, the Iroquois, the Araucanians,
the Inland Negroes, the Nagas, and by tribes, savage and
semi-civilized, too numerous to mention: some of whom,
too, recognizing the kindred needs of women and children,

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER LIFE. 185

bury with women their domestic appliances and with children
their toys.

The departed other-self will need clothes. Hence the
Abipones "hang a garment from a tree near the place of
interment, for him [the dead man] to put on if he chooses
to come out of the grave ; " and hence the Dahomans, along
with other property, bury with the deceased " a piece of cloth
as a change of raiment when arriving in dead-land." This
providing of wearing apparel (sometimes their " best robes "
in which they are wrapped at burial, sometimes an annual
supply of fresh clothes placed on their skeletons, as among
the Patagonians) goes along with the depositing of jewels
and other valued things. Often interment of the deceased's
"goods" with him is specified generally; as in the case of
the Samoyeds, the Western Australians,, the Damaras, the
Inland Negroes, the New Zealanders. With the dead Pata-
gonian were left whatever " the deceased had while alive ; "
with the Naga, " any article to- which he or she may have
been particularly attached during life;/' with the Guiana
people, " the chief treasures- which they possessed in life ; "
with the Papuan of New Guinea, his " arms and ornaments ; "
with a Peruvian Ynca, "his plate and jewels;" with the
Ancient Mexican, "his garments, precious stones/9 etc; with
the Chibcha, his gold, emeralds, and other treasures. With
the body of the late Queen of Madagascar were placed " an
immense number of silk dresses, native silk cloths, ornaments,
glasses, a table and chairs, a box containing 11,000 dollars
• . • and many other things." By the Mishmis, all the
things necessary for a person whilst living are placed in
a house built over the grave. And in Old Calabar, a house
is built on the beach to contain the deceased's possessions,
" together with a bed, that the ghost may not sleep upon the
floor." To such an extent is this provision for the future life
of the deceased carried, as, in many cases, to entail great
evil on the survivors. Among the Fantees "a funeral is
usually absolute ruin to a poor family." The Dyaks, besides

186 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY,

the deceased's property, bury with him sometimes large
sums of money, and other valuables ; so that " it frequently
happens that a father unfortunate in his family, is by the
death of his children reduced to poverty." And in some
extinct societies of America, nothing but the deceased's land,
which they were unable to put into his grave, remained for
his widow and children.

Carrying out consistently this conception of the second
life, uncivilized peoples infer that, not only his inanimate
possessions, but also his animate possessions, will be needed
by the deceased. Hence the slaughter of his live stock.
With the Kirghiz chief are deposited * his favourite horses,"
as also with the Yakut, the Comanche, the Patagonian ; with
the Borghoo,his horse and dog; with the Bedouin, his camel;
with the Damara, his cattle ; with the Toda, in former times,
" his entire herd ; " and the Vatean, when about to die, has
his pigs first tied to his wrist by a cord and then killed.
Where the life led, instead of having being predatory or
pastoral, has been agricultural, the same idea prompts a
kindred practice. Among the Indians of Peru, writes
Tschudi, " a small bag with cocoa, maize, quinua, etc., is laid
beside the dead, that they might have wherewithal to sow
the fields in the other world."

§ 104. Logically developed, the primitive belief implies
something more — it implies that the deceased will need not
only his weapons and implements, his clothing, ornaments,
and other movables, together with his domestic imimiria ; but
also that he will want human companionship and services.
The attendance he had before death must be renewed after
death.

Hence the immolations which have prevailed, and still
prevail, so widely. The custom of sacrificing wives, and
slaves, and friends, develops as society advances through its
earlier stages, and the theory of another life becomes more
definite. Among Hie Fuegians, the Andamanese,

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHE& LIFE. 187

the Australians, the Tasmanians, with their rudimentary
social organizations, wives are not killed to accompany dead
husbands ; or if they are, the practice is not general enough
to be specified in the accounts given of them. But it is
a practice shown us by more advanced peoples : in Polynesia,
by the New Caledonians, by the Fijians, and occasionally by
the less barbarous Tongans — in America, by the Chinooks,
the Caribs, the Dakotahs — in Africa, by the Congo people,
the Inland Negroes, the Coast Negroes, and most extensively
by the Dahomans. To attend the dead in the other

world, captives taken in war are sacrificed by the Caribs, the
Dakotahs, the Chinooks ; and without enumerating the savage
and semi-savage peoples who do the like, I will only further
instance the survival of the usage among the Homeric Greeks,
when slaying (though with another assigned motive) twelve
Trojans at the funeral pyre of Patroclus. Similarly with
domestics : a dead man's slaves are slain by the Kyans and
the Milanaus of Borneo ; the Zulus kill a king's valets ; the
Inland Negroes kill his eunuchs to accompany his wives;
the Coast Negroes poison or decapitate his confidential ser-
vants. Further, there is in some cases an immo-
lation of friends. In Fiji, a leading man's chief friend is
sacrificed to accompany him; and among the sanguinary
peoples of tropical Africa, a like custom exists.

It was, however, in the considerably-advanced societies of
ancient America that such arrangements for the future con-
venience of the dead were carried out with the greatest care.
In Mexico, every great man's chaplain was slain, that he
might perform for him the religious ceremonies in the next
life as in this. Among the Indians of Vera Paz, "when a
lord was dying, they immediately killed as many slaves as he
had, that they might precede him and prepare the house
for their master." Besides other attendants, the Mexicans
u sacrificed some of the irregularly-formed men, whom the
king had collected in his palaces for his entertainment, in
order that they might give him the same pleasure in the

188 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

other world" Of course, such elaborate precautions that the
deceased should not lack hereafter any advantages he had
enjoyed here, entailed enormous bloodshed. By the Mexicans
" the number of the victims was proportioned to the grandeur
of the funeral, and amounted sometimes, as several historians
affirm, to 200." In Peru, when an Ynca died, " his attend-
ants and favourite concubines, amounting sometimes, it
is said, to a thousand, were immolated on his tomb." And
until the reign of Soui-Zin, when a Japanese emperor died
" on enterrait avec lui tous ceux qui, de son vivant, appro*
chaient sa personne."

The intensity of the faith prompting such customs, we
shall the better conceive on learning that the victims are
often willing, and occasionally anxious, to die. Among the
Guaxanis in old times, some faithful followers " sacrificed
themselves at the grave of a chief." A dead Tnca's wives
" volunteered to be killed, and their number was often such
that the officers were obliged to interfere, saying that enough
had gone at present;*" and "some of the women, in order
that their faithful service might be held in more esteem,
finding that there was delay in completing the tomb, would
hang themselves up by their own hair, and so kill them-
selves." Similarly of the Ghibchas, Simon says that with
a corpse " they interred the wives and slaves who most
wished it" Of Tonquin in past times Tavernier wrote—
" Many Lords and Ladies of the Court will needs be buried
alive with him [the dead king] for to serve him in the places
where he is to go." In Africa it is the same even now.
Among the Torubans, at the funeral of a great man, " many
of his friends swallow poison," and are entombed with him.
Formerly in Congo, "when the king was buried a dozen
young maids leapt into the grave . • • and were buried
alive to serve him in the other world. These maids were
then so eager for this service to their deceased prince, that,
in striving who should be first, they killed one another."
And in Dahomey, immediately the king dies, his wives

THE IDEAS OP ANOTHER LIFE. 189

begin to destroy all his furniture and things of value, as
well as their own; and to murder one another. On one
occasion 285 of the women were thus killed before the new
king could stop it*

These immolations sometimes follow the deaths of the
young. Kane says a Chinook chief wished to kill his wife,
that she might accompany his dead son to the other world ;
and in Aneiteum, on the death of a beloved child, the
mother, aunt, or grandmother, is strangled that she may
accompany it to the world of spirits.

As further qualifying the interpretation to be put on
sanguinary customs of this kind, we must bear in mind that
not only are inferiors and dependents sacrificed at a funeral,
with or without their assent, but that the superiors themselves
in some cases decide to die. Fiji is not the only place where
people advancing in years are buried alive by their dutiful
children. The like practice holds in Vate, where an old chief
requests his sons to destroy him in this way.

§ 105. Conceived as like the first in its needs and occupa-
tions and pleasures, the second life is conceived as like the
first in its social arrangements. Subordination, both domestic
and public, is expected to be the same hereafter as here, A
few specific statements to this effect may be added to the
foregoing implications.

Cook states that the Tahitians divided the departed into
classes similar to those existing among themselves; or, as
Ellis re-states it, " those who were kings or Areois in this
world were the same there for ever." The creed of the
Tongans, too, represents deceased persons as organized after
the system of ranks existing in Tonga. The like holds in
Fiji; where it "is most repugnant to the native mind"

• We hare here a due to the anomalous fact that, in sundry of these
.African kingdoms, everything is giTen over to plunder and murder after a
lung's death. The case of Ashantee, where the relatives of the king commit
the destruction, shows its that it is all a sequence of the supposed duty to
go and scire the king in another life.

190 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

that a chief should appear in the other world unattended.
The Chibchas thought that in the future life, they would
" be attended to by their servants, as in the present" So, too*
is it among the Hill-tribes of India: the heaven of the
Karens " has its rulers and its subjects ;" and in the Eookie
heaven, the ghost of every enemy a man has slain becomes
his slave. With African races the like holds. According
to the creed of the Dahomans, classes are the same in the
second life as in the first By Kaffirs the political and
social relations after death are supposed to remain as before.
And a kindred conception is implied among the Akkra
Negroes, by their assertion that in the rainy season, their
guardian gods go on a visit to the supreme god.

That this analogy persists in the conceptions of higher
races, scarcely needs saying. The legend of the descent of
Ishtar, the Assyrian Venus, shows us that the residence
of the Assyrian dead had, like Assyria, its despotic ruler,
with officers levying tribute. So, too, in the under-

world of the Greeks. We have the dread Aides, with his
wife Persephone, as rulers ; we have Minos " giving sentence
from his throne to the dead, while they sat and stood around
the prince, asking his dooms ; " and Achilles, is thus addressed
by Ulysses : — " For of old, in the days of thy life, we Argives
gave thee one honour with the gods, and now thou art a great
prince here among the dead." And while departed men are
thus under political and social relations like those of living
men, so are the celestials. Zeus stands to the rest " exactly
in the same relation that an absolute monarch does to the
aristocracy of which he is the head." Nor did

Hebrew ideas of another life, when they arose, fail to yield
like analogies. Originally meaning simply the grave, or, in a
vague way, the place or state of the dead, Sheol, when
acquiring the more definite meaning of a miserable place for
the dead, a Hebrew Hades, and afterwards developing into
a place of torture, Gehenna, introduces us to a form of
diabolical government having gradations. And though, as

s

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER LIFE. 191

the conception of life in the Hebrew heaven elaborated,
the ascribed arrangements did not, like those of the Greeks,
parallel terrestrial arrangements domestically, they did poli-
tically. As some commentators express it, there is implied
a "court" of celestial beings. Sometimes, as in the case
of Ahab, God is represented as taking council with his
attendants and accepting a suggestion. There is a heavenly
army, spoken of as divided into legions. There are arch-
angels set over different elements and over different peoples :
these deputy-gods being, in so far, analogous to the minor
gods of the Greek Pantheon. The chief difference is that
their powers are more distinctly deputed, and their subordi-
nation greater. Though here, too, the subordination is incom-
plete : we read of wars in heaven, and of rebellious angels
cast down to Tartarus. That this parallelism con-

tinned down to late Christian times, is abundantly shown.
In 1407, Petit, professor of theology in the University of
Paris, represented God as a feudal sovereign, Heaven as a
feudal kingdom, and Lucifer as a rebellious vassal. " He
deceived numbers of angels, and brought them over to his
party, so that they were to do him homage and obedience, as
to their sovereign lord, and be no way subject to God ;
and Lucifer was to hold his government in like manner to
God, and independent of all subjection to him. ... St
Michael, on discovering his intentions, came to him, and
said that he was acting very wrong." "A battle ensued
between them, and many of the angels took part on either
side, but the greater number were for St Michael." That
a kindred view was held by our protestant Milton, is
obvious.

§ 106. Along with this parallelism between the social
systems of the two lives, may fitly be named the closeness
of communion between them. The second life is originally
allied to the first by frequency and directness of intercourse.
In Dahomey, many immolations are due to the alleged

192 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

need for periodically supplying the departed monarch with
fresh attendants in the shadowy world ; and further, " what-
ever action, however trivial, is done by the King, ... it must
be dutifully reported by some male or female messenger to
the paternal ghost." Among the Kaffirs the system of appeal
from subordinates to superiors, is extended so as to include
those who have passed into the other-life: "the departed
spirit of a chief being sometimes invoked to compel a man's
ancestors to bless him." And with this may be named a
still stranger instance — the extension of trading transactions
from the one life into the other : money being borrowed " in
this life, to be repaid with heavy interest in the next/*

In this respect, as in other respects, the conceptions of
civilized races have but slowly diverged from those of savage
races. On reading that when tribes of the Amazulu are
hostile, the ancestral spirits of the one tribe go to fight those
of the other, we are reminded of the supernatural beings
who, siding some with Greeks and some with Trojans, joined
in the combat; and we are also reminded that the Jews
thought " the angels of the nations fought in heaven when
their allotted peoples made war on earth." Further, we are
reminded that the creed of Christendom, under its pre-
dominant form, implies a considerable communion between
those in the one life and those in the other. The living pray
for the dead ; and the canonized dead are asked to intercede
on behalf of the living.

§ 107. The second life, being originally conceived as re-
peating the first in other respects, is originally conceived as
repeating it in conduct, sentiments, and ethical code.

According to the Thibetan cosmogony, the gods fought
among themselves. The Fijian gods " are proud and revenge-
ful, and make war, and kill and eat each other, and are, in
fact, savages like themselves." Their names of honour are
"the adulterer," " the woman-stealer ," "the brain-eater" "the
murderer." And the ghost of a Fijian chief, on arriving in

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER LIFE. 193

the other world, recommends himself by the boast — " I have
destroyed many towns, and slain many in war." This paral-
lelism between the standards of conduct in the two lives,
typical as it is of parallelisms everywhere repeated in lower
stages of progress, reminds us of like parallelisms between
the standards of those early peoples whose literatures have
come down to as.

Of the after-life of the departed Greeks, under its ethical
aspect, the traits are but indistinct Such as we may per-
ceive, however, conform to those of -Greek daily life. In
Hades, Achilles thinks of vengeance, and rejoices in the
account of his son's success m battle; Ajax is still angry
because Ulysses defeated him; and the image of Heroules
goes about threateningly, frightening the ghosts around
him. In the upper world it is the same-: "the straggle
on earth is only the counterpart of the struggle in heaven."
Mars is represented as honoured by the titles of " barib of
mortals," and " blood-stainer." Jealousy and revenge are
ruling motives. Tricking each other, the immortals also
delude men by false appearances — even combine, as Zeus and
Athene did, to prompt the breaking of treaties solemnly
sworn to. Easily offended and implacable, they are feared
just as his demons are feared by the primitive man. And
the one act sure to be resented, is disregard of observances
which express subordination. As among the Amazulu at the
present time, the anger of ancestral spirits is to be dreaded
only when they have not been duly lauded, or have been
neglected when oxen were killed; as among the Tahitians
"the only crimes that were visited by the displeasure of
their deities were the neglect of some rite or ceremony, or
the failing to furnish required offerings;" so the ascribed
character of the Olympians is such that the one unforgive-
al e offence is neglect of propitiations. Nevertheless, we
may note that the unredeemed brutality implied by the
stories of the earlier gods, is, in the stories of the later,
considerably mitigated; in correspondence with the miti-

o

194 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

gation of barbarism attending the progress of Greek civili-
zation.

Nor in the ascribed moral standard of the Hebrew other-
life, do we fail to see a kindred similarity, if a less complete
one. Subordination is still the supreme virtue. If this is
displayed, wrong acts are condoned, or are not supposed to be
wrong. The obedient Abraham is applauded for his readi-
ness to sacrifice Isaac: there is no sign of blame far ao
readily accepting the murderous suggestion of his dream as a
dictate from heaven. The massacre of the Amalekites by
divine command, is completed by the merciless Samuel with-
out check ; and there is tacit condemnation of the more merciful
SauL But though the God of the Hebrews is represented as
hardening Pharaoh's heart, and as sending a lying spirit to
deceive Ahab through his prophets ; it is to be noted that the
ethical codes of heaven and paradise, while reflecting the
code of a people in some respects barbarous, reflect the code
of a people in other respects morally superior. Justice and
mercy enter into the moral standards of both lives (as ex-
pressed by the prophets, at least), in a degree not shown us
in the moral standards of lower men*

§ 108. And here we are introduced to the fact remaining
to be noted — the divergence of the civilized idea from the
savage idea. Let us glance at the chief contrasts.

The complete substantiality of the second life as originally
conceived, following necessarily from the conception of the
other-self as quite substantial, the foregoing evidence clearly
shows us. Somehow keeping himself out of sight, the de-
ceased eats, drinks, hunts, and fights as before. How material
his life is supposed to be, we see in such facts as that, among
the Kaffirs, a deceased's weapons are " broken or bent lest
the ghost, during some midnight return to air, should do
injury with them," and that an Australian cuts off the right
thumb of a slain enemy, that the ghost may be unable to
throw a spear. Evidently, destruction of the body by

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER LIFE. 195

burning or otherwise, tending to produce a qualified notion of
the revived other-self, tends to produce a qualified notion* of
the other-life, physically considered. The rise of this qualified
notion we may see in the practice of burning or breaking or
cutting to pieces the things intended for the dead man V use.
We have already noted cases (§ 84) in which food placed with
the corpse is burnt along with it ; and elsewhere, in pursuance
of the same idea, the property is burnt In Africa this is com-
mon. Among the Eooesas the widows of chiefs "burn all
the household utensils ;" the Bagos (Coast Negroes) do the
like, and include all then? stores of food : " even their rice is
not saved from the flame&" It is a custom of the Comanches
to burn the deceased's weapons. Franklin says of the Chippe-
wayaiLS, * no article is spared, by these unhappy men when a
near relative dies; their clothes and tents are cut to pieces,
their guns broken, and every other weapon rendered useless."
Obviously the implication is that the ghosts of these posses-
sions go with the deceased ; and the accompanying belief
that the second life is physically unlike the 'first, is in some
cases expressed : it is said that the essences of the offerings
made are consumed by departed souls and not the substances
of them. More decided still seems to be the con-

ceived contrast indicated by destroying models of the de-
ceased's possessions. This practice, prevailing among the
Chinese, was lately afresh witnessed by Mr. J. Thomson*;
who describes two lamenting widows of a dead mandarin
whom he saw giving to the flames "huge paper-models of
houses and furniture, boats and sedans, ladies-in-waiting and
gentlemen-pages." Clearly, another life in which the burnt
semblances of things are useful* must be figured as of a veiy
shadowy kind.

The activities and gratifications of the second life, origi-
nally conceived as identical with those of the first, come
in course of time to be conceived as more or less unlike
them. Besides seeing that at first the predatory races look
forward to predatory occupations, and that races living by

o 2

196 . THR DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

agriculture expect to plant and reap as before ; we see that
even where there is reached the advanced social state implied
by the use of money, the burial of money with the body
shows the belief that there will be buying and selling in the
second life ; and where sham coins made of tinsel are burnt,
there remains the same implication. But parallelism passes
into divergency. Without trying to trace the changes, it will
suffice if we turn to the current description of a hereafter,
in which the daily occupations and amusements find no
place, and in which there is neither marrying nor giving in
marriage. Still, being .conceived as a life in which all the
days are Sundays, passed " where congregations ne'er break
up," it is conceived as akin to a part of the present life,
though not to the average of it.

Again, the supposed form of social order becomes partially
unlike the known form. Type of government, caste dis-
tinctions, servile institution^ are originally transferred from
the experiences here to the imaginations of the hereafter.
But though in the conceptions entertained by the most
civilized, the analogy between the social orders of the first
and the second lives does not wholly disappear, the second
deviates a good deal from the first Though the gradations
implied by a hierarchy of archangels, angels, etc., bear some
relation to the gradations seen around us; yet they are
thought of as otherwise based: such inequalities as are
imagined have a different origin.

Similarly respecting the ethical conceptions and the im-
plied sentiments. Along with the emotional modifications
that have taken place during civilization, there have gone
modifications in the beliefs respecting the code of con-
duct and the measure of goodness in the life to come* The
religion of enmity, which makes international revenge a duty
and successful retaliation a glory, is to be wholly abandoned >
and the religion of amity to be unqualified. Still, in certain
respects the feelings and motives now dominant are to
remain dominant The desire for approbation, which is a

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHEB LIFE. 197

ruling passion here, is represented as being a ruling passion
hereafter. The giving of praise and receiving of approval
are figured as the chief sources of happiness.

Lastly, we observe that the two lives become more widely
disconnected. At first perpetual intercourse between those
in the one and those in the other, is believed to be going
on. The savage daily propitiates the dead; and the dead
are supposed daily to aid or hinder the acts of the living.
This close communion, persisting throughout the earlier
stages of civilization, gradually becomes less close. Though
by paying priests to say masses for departed souls, and by
invocations of saints for help, this exchange of services has
been, and still continues to be, generally shown; yet the
cessation of such practices among the most advanced, implies
a complete sundering of the two lives in their thoughts.

Thus, then, as the idea of death gets gradually marked
off from the idea of suspended animation ; and as the antici-
pated resurrection comes to be thought of as more and more
remote; so the distinction between the second life and the
first life, grows, little by little, decided. The second life
diverges by becoming less material ; by becoming more
unlike in its occupations ; by having another kind of social
order ; by presenting gratifications more remote from those
of the senses; and by the higher standard of conduct it
annm?? And while thus- differentiating in nature, the second
life separates more widely from the first. Communion de-.
creases; and there is an increasing interval between the
ending of the one and the beginning of the other.

CHAPTER XV.

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER WORLD

§ 109. While describing in the last chapter, the ideas of
another life, I have quoted passages which imply ideas of
another world. The two sets of ideas are so closely con-
nected, that the one cannot be treated without occasional
reference to the other. I have, however, reserved the second
for separate treatment; both because the question of the
locality in which another life is supposed to be passed, is
a separate question, and because men's conceptions of that
locality undergo modifications which it will be instructive to
trace.

We shall find that by a process akin to the processes
lately contemplated, the place of residence for the dead
diverges slowly from the place of residence for the living.

§ 110. Originally the two coincide : the savage imagines
his dead relatives are close at hand. If he renews the
supplies of food at their graves, and otherwise propitiates
them, the implication is that they are not far away, or that
they will soon be back. This implication he accepts.

The Sandwich Islanders think "the spirit of the departed
hovers about the places of its former resort ;" and in Mada-
gascar, the ghosts of ancestors are said to frequent their
tombs. The Guiana Indians believe " every place is haunted
where any have died." So, too, is it throughout Africa.
On the Gold Coast, " the spirit is supposed to remain near
the spot where the body has been buried;" and the East

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHSB WORLD. 199

Africans " appear to imagine the souls to be always near the
places of sepulture." Nay, this assumed identity of habitat
is, in some cases, even closer. In the country north of the
Zambesi, "all believe that the souls of the departed still
mingle among the living, and partake in some way of the
food they consume." So, likewise, " on the Aleutian Islands
the invisible souls or shades of the departed wander about
among their children."

Certain funeral customs lead to the belief in a special place
of residence near at hand ; namely, the deserted house or
village in which the deceased lived. The Kamschadales
" frequently remove to some other place when .any one has
died in the hut, without dragging the corpse along with
them." Among the Lepchas, the house where there has been
a death n is almost always forsaken by the surviving inmates."
The motive, sufficiently obvious, is in some cases assigned.
If a deceased Creek Indian "has been a man of eminent
character, the family immediately remove from the house in
which he is buried, and erect a new one, with a belief that
where the bones of their dead are deposited, the place is
always attended by goblins." Various African peoples have
the same practice. Among the Balonda, a man abandons
the hut where a favourite wife died; and if he revisits the
place, " it is to pray to her or make an offering." In some
cases a more extensive desertion takes place. The Hottentots
remove their kraal "when an inhabitant dies in it" After
a death the Boobies of Fernando Pp forsake the village in
which it occurred. And of the Bechuanas we read that " on
the death of Mallahawan, . . . the town [Lattakoo] was re-
moved, according to the custom of the country."

In these cases the consistency is complete. From the
other primitive ideas we have traced, arises this primitive
idea that the second life is passed in the locality in which
the first life was passed

$ 111. Elsewhere we trace small modifications: the region

200 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

said to be haunted by the souls of the dead becomes widtfr.
Though they revisit their old homes, yet commonly they keep
at some distance.

In New Caledonia, " the spirits of the departed are sup-
posed to go to the bush ; " and in Eromanga " spirits ate also
thought to roam the bush." We find, with a difference,, this
belief among some Africans. The Coast Negroes think there
are wild people in the bush who summon their souls to make
slaves of them ; and the notion -of the Bullosas is that the
inferior order of demons reside in the bush near the town,
and the superior further off.

In other cases funeral customs generate the idea that the
world of the dead is an adjacent mountain. The Caribs
buried their chiefs on hills ; the Comanches on " the highest
hill in the neighbourhood ;" the Patagonians, too, interred on
the summits of the highest hills ; and in Western Arabia, the
burial grounds "are generally on or near the summits of
mountains." This practice and the accompanying belief, have
sometimes an unmistakable connexion. We saw that in
Borneo they deposit the bones of their dead on the least
accessible peaks and ridges. Hence the Hill-Dyaks' belief
given by Low, that the summits of the higher hills are
peopled with spirits ; or, as St. John says, " with regard to a
future state the (Land) Dyaks point to the highest, mountain
in sight as the abode of their departed friends." Many
more peoples have mountain other- worlds. In Tahiti, " the
heaven most familiar . . . was situated near . • . glorious
Tamahani, the resort of departed spirits, a celebrated moun-
tain on the north-west sidd of Baiatea." As we lately saw
(§ 97), a like belief prevails in Madagascar. And I may add
the statement quoted by Sir John Lubbock from Dubois, that
the "seats of happiness are represented by some Hindu
writers to be vast mountains on the north of India"

Where caves are used for interments, they become the sup*
posed places of abode for the dead ; and hence develops the
notion of a subterranean other-world. Ordinary burial, joined

THE IBUS OF XNOTHBR WORLD. 201

the belief m a double who eohtinuaUy wanders and
returns to the grave, may perhaps suggest an idea like that of
the Khends, whose " divinities [ancestral spirits] are all gou-
fined to the limits of the earth : within it they are believed
to reside, emerging and retiring at wilL" But, obviously,
cave-burial tends to giVte a more developed form to this con-
ception. Professor Nilsson, after pointing out how the evi-
dence yielded by remains in caves verifies the traditions and
allusions entrant throughout Europe and Asiar— after referring
to the villages of artificial mountain-caves, which men made
when they became too numerous for natural caves ; and after
reminding us that along with living in caves there went
burial in caves; remarkathat "this custom, like all religious
eustonae, . . . survived long after people had commenced
to inhabit proper houses." This connexion of practices is
especially conspicuous in America, from Terra del Fuego to
Mexico, as indicated in } 87. And along with it we find the
conception of an under-ground region to which the dead
betake themselves ; as, for instance, among the Patagonians ;
who believe " that some of them after death are to return to
thoee divine caverns " where they were created, and where
their particular deities reside.

$ 112. To understand fully the genesis of this last belief,
we must, however, join with it the genesis of the belief in
more distant localities inhabited by the departed. What
changes the idea of another world close at hand, to the idea
of another world comparatively remote? The answer is
simpler-migration^

The dreams of those who have lately migrated, initiate
beliefs in future abodes which the dead reach by long journeys*
Having attachments to relatives left behind, and being subject
to home-sickness (sometimes in extreme degrees, as shown
by Livingstone's account of some negroes who died from it),
uncivilized men, driven by war or famine to other habitats*
must often dream of the places and persons they have left

'202 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY. ;

Their dreams, narrated and accepted in the original wajr as
actual experiences, make it appear that daring sleep they have
been to their old abodes. First one and then another dreams
thus : rendering familiar the notion of visiting the father-land
during sleep. What, naturally, happens at death; inter-
preted as it is by the primitive man ? The other-self is long
absent — where has he gone ? Obviously to the place which
he often went to, and from which at other times he returned.
Now he has not returned. He longed to go back, and fre-
quently said he would go back. Now he has done as he said
he would.

This interpretation we meet with everywhere: in some
cases stated, and in others implied. Among the Peruvians,
when an Tnca died, it was said that he " was called home to
the mansions of his father the Sun." " When the Mandans
die they expect to return to the original seats of their fore-
fathers." In Mangaia " when a man died, his spirit was sup-
posed to return to Avaiki, i.e., the ancient home of their ances-
tors in the region of sunset." " Think not," said a New Zealand
chief, "that my origin is of the earth. I come from the
heavens ; my ancestors are all there ; they are gods, and I
shall return to them." If the death of a Santal occurs at a
distance from the river, " his nearest kinsman carries a little
relic . . . and places it in the current, to be conveyed
to the far off eastern land from which his ancestors came :"
an avowed purpose which, in adjacent regions, dictates the
placing of the entire body in the stream. Similarly, "the
Teutonic tribes so conceived the future as to reduce death
to a 'home-going' — a return to the Father." Let us
observe how the implications of this belief correspond with
the facts.

Migrations have been made in all directions ; and hence,
on this hypothesis, there must have arisen many different
beliefs respecting the direction of the other world. These
we find. I do not mean only that the beliefs differ in
widely-separated parts of the world. They differ within

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER WORLD. 203

each considerable area ; and often in such ways as might
be expected from the probable routes through which the
habitats were reached, and in such ways as to agree with
traditions. Thus in South America the Chonos,

m trace their descent from western nations across the ocean ;"
and they anticipate going in that direction after death. The
adjacent Araucanians believe that "after death they go
towards the west beyond the sea." Expecting to go to the east,
whence they came, Peruvians of the Ynca race turned the face
of the corpse to the east ; but not so those of the aboriginal
race living on the coast The paradise of the Ottomacks of
Guiana, is in the west ; while that of the Central Americans
was " where the sun rises." In North America the Chinooks,
inhabiting high latitudes, have their heaven in the south, as
also have the Chippewas; while the tribes inhabiting the
more southerly parts of the continent, have their " happy
hunting-grounds " in the west. Again, in Asia the paradise
of the Kalmucks is in the west; that of the Rookies in
the north ; that of the Todas " where the sun goes down.'9
And there are like differences among the beliefs of the
Polynesian Islanders. In Eromanga "the spirits of the
dead are supposed to go eastward;" while in Iifu, "the
spirit is supposed to go westward at death, to a place called
Loeha." As is shown by one of the above cases,

the position of the corpse has reference, obviously implied
and in some cases avowed, to the road which the deceased
is expected to take. By the Mapuch&i the body is placed
sitting " with the face turned towards the west — the direc-
tion of the spirit-land." The Damaras place the corpse
with the face towards the north, "to remind them (the
n itives) whence they originally came ; " and the corpses of
the neighbouring Bechuanas are made to face to the same
point of the compass.

Along with these different conceptions there go different
ideas of the journey to be taken after death ; with corre-
spondingly-different preparations for it. There is the journey '

204 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

to an under-world; the journey over land; the journey down
a river ; and the journey across the sea.

Descent from troglodytes* alike shown by remains and
surviving in traditions, generates a group of beliefs respecting
man's origin; and (when joined with this expectation of
returning at death to the ancestral home) a further group of
beliefs respecting the locality of the other world. " At least
one-half of the tribes in America represent that man was
first created under the ground* or in the rocky caverns of the
mountains/' says Gatlin. This is a notion which could
scarcely fail to arise among those whose forefathers dwelt in
caves. Having no language capable of expressing the dif-
ference between begetting and creating, their tradition*
inevitably represent them as having been made in caves,
or, more vaguely, as having come out of the earth* Accord-
ing as the legends remain special (which they are likely
to do where the particular caves once inhabited are in the
neighbourhood) or become general (which they are likely
to do where the tribe migrates to other regions) the belief
may assume the one or the other form. In the first case,
there will arise stories such as that current in the Basuto-
country, where exists A cavern whence the natives say they
all proceeded; or such as that named by Livingstone con-
cerning a cave near the village of Sechele, which is said
to be " the habitation of the Deity." In the second ease,
there will arise such ideas as those still existing among the
Todae, who think of their ancestors as having risen from the
ground ; and such ideas as those of the ancient historic races,
who regarded " mother Earth " as the souroe of all beings.
Be this as it may, however, we dd actually find along with
the belief ia a subterranean origin, the belief in a subter-t
ranean world, where the departed rejoin their ancestors.
Without dwelling on the effects produced in primitive minds
by such vast brtoehiug caverns as the Mammoth-cave of
Kentucky, or the cave of Bellamar in Florida, it suffices
to remember that in limestone-formations all over the globe,

THE IDBA8 OF AJWTBBR WORLD. 205

•

water has formed long ramifying passages (in this direction
bringing the explorer to an impassable chasm, in that to
an under-ground river) to see that the belief in an inde-
finitely-extended under-world is almost certain to arise. On
recalling the credulity shown by our own rustics in every
locality where some neighbouring deep pool or tarn is
pointed out as bottomless, it will be manifest that caves of
no great extent, remaining unexplored to their terminations,
readily come to be regarded as endless — *s leading by
murky ways to gloomy infernal regions. And where any
such cave, originally inhabited, was then or afterwards used
for purposes of sepulture, and was consequently considered
as peopled by the souls of ancestors, there would result the
belief that the journey after death to the ancestral home,
ended in a descent to Hades.*

Where the journey thus ending, or otherwise ending, is a
long one, preparations have to be made. Hence the club
pnt into the hand of the dead Fijian to be ready for self-
defence ; hence the spear-thrower fastened to the finger of a
New Caledonian's corpse ; hence the M hell-shoon " provided
by the Scandinavians ; hence the sacrificed horse or camel
on which to pursue the weary way ; hence the passports by
which the Mexicans warded off some of the dangem ; hence
the dog's head laid by the Esquimaux on the grave of a
child to serve as a guide to the land of souls ; hence the
ferry-money, and the presents for appeasing the demons
met

Of course, a oertaia family-likeness among alleged diffi*
culties of this return-journey after death, is to be expected
where the migrations have had similar difficulties. The
heaven of the Gold Coast Negroes, is an "inland country
called Bosmanque:" a river having to be crossed on the

• A confirmation he* been printed out to me sinee the above peerage wee
pot in type. If with the primitive Hebrew practice of ca*e-bu*iai (afcown
by Abraham's purchase) we join the fact that Sheol literally means " oare ;"
we may infer that along with development of the ghost into a permanently*
existing soul, there went development of the save into an andev-weeld.

206 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

way. This is naturally a leading event in the description
of the journey, among inhabitants of continents. An over-
land migration can rarely have occurred without some large
river being met with. The passing of such a river will, in
the surviving tradition, figure as a chief obstacle overcome ;
and the re-passing it will be considered a chief obstacle on
the journey back, made by the dead. Sometimes inability
to pass the river is the assigned reason for a supposed return
of the soul. By a North American tribe, the revival from
trance is thus explained : the other-self, failing to get across,
came back. It is not impossible that the conceived danger
of this river-crossing — a danger so great that, having once
escaped, the deceased will not encounter it again — leads to
the idea that spirits cannot pass over running streams.

Where a migrating tribe, instead of reaching the new
habitat by an overland route, has reached it by ascending
a river, the tradition, and the consequent notion of the
journey back to the ancestral home, take other shapes and
entail other preparations. Humboldt tells us that in South
America, tribes spread along the rivers and their branches :
the intervening forests being impenetrable. In Borneo, too,
where the invading races are located about the shores and
rivers, the rivers have clearly been the channels up which
the interior had been reached. Hence certain funeral rites
which occur in Borneo. The Kanowits send much of a
deceased chiefs goods adrift in a frail canoe on the river.
The Malanaus used " to drift the deceased's sword, eatables,
cloths, jars — and often in former days a slave woman accom-
panied these articles, chained to the boat— out to sea, with a
strong ebb tide running." Describing this as a custom of
the past, Brooke says that at present " these crafts are
placed near their graves : " an example of the way in which
observances become modified and their meanings obscured.
A kindred example is furnished by the Chinooks, who,
putting the body in a canoe near the river-side, place the
canoe with its head pointing down the stream.

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER WOULD. 207

The journey to the other-world down a river, brings us
scarcely a break to the remaining kind of journey —
that over the sea. We habitually find it where there has
been an over-sea migration* The heaven of the Tongans is
a distant island. Though it is not clear where Bulu, the
Fijian abode of bliss, is situated, yet " the fact that it cannot
be reached except in a canoe, shows that it is separated from
<fcas nodi by water/9 The entrance to the Samoan Hades
is "at the west-end of Savaii,9' and to reach this entrance
the spirit (if belonging to a person living on another
island) journeyed partly by land and partly swimming the
intermediate sea or seas. Moreover the Samoans " say of a
chief who has died, ' he has sailed.' " Along with, or instead
of, these distinct statements, we have, in other cases,
practices sufficiently significant Sometimes a part of a
canoe is found near a grave in the Sandwich Islands. In
New Zealand, undoubtedly peopled by immigrant Poly.
oesians, Angas says a canoe, sometimes with sails and
paddles, or part of a canoe, is placed beside or in their
graves; while the statement of Thompson that the bodies of
New Zealand chiefs were put into canoe-shaped boxes, shows
us a modification which explains other such modifications.
Already we have seen that the Chonos, of western Pata-
gonia, who trace their descent from western people across
the ocean, expect to go back to them after death ; and here
it is to be added that " they bury their dead in canoes, near
the sea.99 Of the Araucanians, too, with like traditions and
like expectations, we read that a chief is sometimes buried in
a boat Bonwick alleges of the Australians that formerly in
Port Jackson, the body was put adrift in a bark canoe ; and
Angas, again showing us how an observance having at first
an unmistakable meaning passes into a form of which the
meaning is less distinct, says the New South Wales people
sometimes bury the dead in a bark canoe.

like evidence is found in the northern hemisphere.
Among the Chinooks "all excepting slaves, are laid in

208. TBI DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

canoes or wooden sepulchres;" the Ostyaks "bury in
boats;" and there were kindled usages among the ancient
Scandinavians.

§ 113. Yet a further explanation is thus afforded. We
see how, in the same society, there arise beliefs in two or
more other-worlds. When with migration there is joined
conquest, invaders and invaded will naturally have different
ancestral homes to which their respective dead depart
Habitually, where physical and mental unlikenesses indicate
unlike origins of the governing classes and the governed
classes, there is a belief in unlike other-worlds for theip.
The Samoan chiefs "were supposed to have, a separate
place allotted to them, called Pulotu." We have seen
that in Peru, the Ynca race and the aborigines went
after death to different regions. In the opinion of some
Tongans, only the chiefs have souls, and go to Bolotoo, their
heaven : the probability being that the traditions of the
more recent conquering immigrants, and the belief in their
return journey after death, are relatively distinct and
dominant. Using the clue thus furnished, we may see how
the different other- worlds for different ranks in the same
society, become other worlds for good and bad respectively.
On remembering that our word villain, now so expressive of
detestable character, once merely meant .a serf, while noble
was at first indicative only of high social position; we
cannot question the tendency of early opinion to identify
subjection with badness and supremacy with goodness. On
also remembering that victors become the military class,
while vanquished become slaves who do not fight, and that
in societies so constituted worth ifl measured by bravery,
we perceive a further reason why the other-worlds of
upper, and lower classes, though originally their respective
ancestral homes, come to be regarded as places for worthy
and unworthy. Naturally, therefore, where indigenous
descendants from cave-dwellers have been subjugated by

THE IDEAS OF ANOTHER WORLD. 209

an invading race, it will happen that the respective places
to which the two expect to return, will differentiate into
places for bad and good. There will arise such a belief
as that of the Nicaragua-people, who held that the bad
(those who died in their houses) went under the earth to
Miqtanteot, while the good (who died in battle) went to
serve the gods where the sun rises, in the country whence the
maize came. As the Patagonians show us, the unsubjugated
descendants of cave-dwellers do not regard the under-world
as a place of misery. Contrariwise, their return after death
to the " divine caverns," is to bring a pleasurable life with
the god who presides in the land of strong drink. But
where, as in Mexico, there have been conquests, the under-
world is considered, if not as a place of punishment, still as a
relatively-uncomfortable place.

Thus then, the noteworthy fact is that a supposed infernal
abode like the Greek Hades, not undesirable as conceived
by proximate descendants of troglodytes, may differentiate
into a dreary place, and at length into a place of punish-
ment, mainly because of the contrast with the better places
to which the other souls go— Isles of the West for the
specially brave, or the celestial abode for favourites of the
gods. And the farther noteworthy fact is, that the most
inhospitable regions into which rebels are expelled, yield
a kindred origin for a Tartarus or a Gehenna.*

§ 114. Tnterpretable after the same general manner, is
the remaining conception of another world, above or outside
of this world. The transition from a mountain abode to

• While this if in the press, I find in the oldest of all known legends, the
Babylonian account of the flood, evidence that heaven, as then conceived,
was the territory whence the conquering race came. The residence of the
gods, to which Xisithrus is translated for his piety, is " on the Persian Gulf,
the mouth of the Euphrates ;" and Mr. Gk Smith points out that this
the sacred region whence came the beings who taught the Babylonians
the arts, and were worshipped by them. [Ihe expression " while this is in
the press," does not refer to this edition. This note was added in the llrst
edition.]

P

210 *HE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

an abode in the sky, conceived as the sky k by primitive
men, presents no difficulties.

Burial on hills is practised by many peoples ; and we have
already seen that there are places, as Borneo, where, along
with the custom of depositing a chiefs remains on some peak
difficult of access, there goes the belief that the spirits of the
departed inhabit the mountain-tops. That the custom causes
the belief, is in this case probable; though, as we shall
presently see, an apparently-similar belief arises otherwise.
Here, however, it concerns us only to observe that "the
liighest mountain in sight" is regarded as a world peopled
by the departed; and that in the undeveloped speech of
savages, living on a peak up in the heavens is readily con-
founded with living in the heavens. Bemembering that,
originally, the firmament is considered as a dome supported
by these loftiest peaks, the conclusion that those who live on
them have access to it, is a conclusion certain to be drawn.

But, as already hinted, besides the above origin, carrying
with it the belief that departed souls of men live on the
mountain-tops, or in the heavens, there is another possible,
and indeed probable, origin, not carrying such a conclusion ;
but, contrariwise, restricting this heavenly abode to a dif-
ferent race of beings. Observe how this other belief is
suggested. The choice of high places for purposes

of defence, we may trace back through civilized times into
barbarous times. What many of our own castles show us —
what we are shown by modern and ancient fortresses on the
Rhine — what we are shown by mediaeval towns and villages
capping the hills in Italy, and by scattered fastnesses
perched on scarcely accessible peaks throughout the East ; we
are shown wherever primitive savagery has been outgrown
in regions affording fit sites. A fortress on an elevation in
ancient Mexico, is described by Godoi ; the Panches made
entrenchments on high spots; and the Peruvians fortified the
tops of mountains by ranges of walled moats. Both invaded
and invaders have thus utilized commanding eminences.

TILE IDEAS OF AHOTHBB WORLD. 211

The remains of Bomaa encampments on our own hills,
remind ns of this last use. Clearly theft, daring the con-
flicts and subjugations which have been ever going on, the
seizing of an elevated stronghold by a conquering race, has
been a not infrequent occurrence; and the dominance of
this race has often gone along with the continued habitation
of this stronghold. An account given by Brooke

of his long contest with a mountain-chief in Borneo, shows
what would be likely to happen when the stronghold was in
the possession of the superior race. His antagonist had
fortified an almost inaccessible crag on the top of Sadok —
a mountain about 5,000 feet high, surrounded by lower
mountains. Described by Brooke as "grim and grand,"
it figures in Dyak legends and songs as " the Grand Mount,
towards which no enemy dare venture." The first attempt to
take this fastness failed utterly ; the second, in which a
small mortar was used, also failed ; and only by the help
of a howitzer, dragged up by the joint strength of hundreds
of yelling Dyaks, did the third attempt succeed. This chief-
tain, who had many followers and was aided by subordinate
chiefs, Layang, Nanang, and Loyioh, holding secondary forts
serving as outposts, was unconquerable by the surrounding
tribes, and was naturally held in dread by them. " Grand-
lather Bentap," as he was commonly called, was dangerously
violent; occasionally killed his own men; was regardless
of established customs ; and, among other feats, took a second
wife from a people averse to the match, carried her off to his
eyrie, and, discarding the old one, made the young one Ranee
of Sadok. Already there were superstitions about him.
" Snakes were supposed to possess some mysterious con-
nection with Rentap's forefathers, or the souls of the latter
resided in these loathsome creatures." Now if,

instead of a native ruler thus living up in the clouds (which
hindered the last attack), keeping the country around in fear,
occasionally coming down to fulfil a threat of vengeance,
and giving origin to stories already growing into supersti-

p 2

212 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

tions, we suppose a ruler belonging to an invading race,
which, bringing knowledge, skill, arts and implements,
unknown to the natives, were regarded as beings of superior
kind, just as civilized men now are by savages ; we shall see
that there would inevitably arise legends concerning this
superior race seated in the sky. Considering that among
these very Dyaks, divine beings are conceived as differing
so little from men, that the supreme god and creator, Tapa,
is supposed to dwell " in a house like that of a Malay, . . •
himself being clothed like a Dyak ;" we shall see that
the ascription of a divine character to a conqueror thus
placed, would be certain. And if the country was one in
which droughts had fostered the faith in rain-makers and
" heaven-herds "-—if, as among the Zulus, there was a belief
in weather-doctors able to u contend with the lightning
and hail," and to " send the lightning to another doctor to
try him ;" this ruler, living on a peak round which the
clouds formed and whence the storms came, would, without
hesitation, be regarded as the causer of these changes — as a
thunderer holding the lightnings in his hand* Joined with
which ascribed powers, there would nevertheless be stories of
his descents from this place up in the heavens, appearances
among men, and amours with their daughters. Grant a little
time for such legends to be exaggerated and idealized—
let the facts be magnified as was the feat of Samson with
the ass's jawbone, or the prowess of Achilles making " the
earth flow with blood," or the achievement of Ramses II
in slaying 100,000 foes single-handed ; and there would be
reached the idea that heaven was the abode of superhuman

• A belief of the ancient Mexicans illustrates this notion that beings
living where the clouds gather, are the causers of them. " Tlaloc, otherwise
TlalocateuctU (Master of Paradise) was the god of water. They called him
fertilizer of the earth, ... he resided upon the highest mountains, where
the clouds are generally formed. . . . The ancients also believed that in
all the high mountains there resided other gods, subaltern to Tlaloc. They
. . . were revered not only as gods of water, but also as the gods of niouu-
Udw^—Clacigero, I. 251-2.

TUR IDBAS OF ANOTHER WORLD. 213

beings commanding the powers of nature and punishing
men.*

I am aware that this interpretation will- be called Euheme-
ristic ; and that having so called it, the mythologists whose
views axe now in fashion will consider it disposed of. Only
incidentally implied as this view here is, I must leave it for
the present unsupported. By-and-by, after showing that
it is congruous with all the direct evidence we have respect-
ing primitive modes of thought, I hope further to show that
the multitudinous facts which existing uncivilized and semi-
civilized races furnish, yield no support to' the current
theories of mythologists, and that these theories are equally
at variance with the laws of mental evolution.

§ 115. The general conclusion to Which we are led is
that the ideas of another world pass through stages of
development. The habitat of the dead, originally conceived
as coinciding with that of the living, gradually diverges —
here to the adjacent forest, there to the remoter forest, and
elsewhere to distant hills and mountains. The belief that
the dead rejoin their ancestors, leads to further divergences,
which vary according to the traditions. Stationary de-
scendants of troglodytes think they return to a subterranean
other- world, whence they emerged; while immigrant races
have for their other-worlds the abodes of their fathers, to
which they journey after death: over land, down a river,
or across the sea, as the case may be. Societies consisting
of conquerors and conquered, having separate traditions of
origin, have separate other-worlds; which differentiate into
superior and inferior places, in correspondence with the
respective positions of the two races. Conquests of these

• Such a conception, once erolved, need not be restricted to the original
locality. Storms bursting in the sky far from this mountain stronghold,
would be taken as evidence that the thunderer had access to other parts of
the heavens ; and hence when the race migrated, this heaven-god, proved by
the occurrence of storms to hare accompanied them, would be eventually
localised on other mountains whence the storm commonly came.

214 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

mixed peoples by more powerful immigrants, bring further
complications — additional other-worlds, more or less unlike
in their characters. Finally, where the places for the de-
parted, or for superior classes of beings, are mountain-tope,
there is a transition to an abode in the heavens ; which, at
first hear and definite, passes into the remote and indefinite.
So that the supposed residence for the dead, originally coin*
ciding with the residence of the living, is little by little re-
moved in thought : distance and direction grow increasingly
vague, and finally the localization disappears in space.

All these conceptions, then, which have their root in the
primitive idea of death, simultaneously undergo like pro-
gressive modifications. Resurrection, once looked for as
immediate, is postponed indefinitely; the ghost, originally
conceived as quite substantial, fades into ethereality; the
other-life, which at first repeated this exactly, becomes more
and more unlike it; and its place, from a completely-known
adjacent spot, passes to i somewhere unknown and un-
imagined.

CHAPTER XVI.

TUB IDEAS OF SUPERNATURAL AGENTS.

§ 116. Specialized as they are in correspondence with our
thoughts, our words do not represent truly the thoughts of
the savage; and often entirely misrepresent them. The
supernatural pre-supposes the natural; and until there has
been reached that idea of orderly causation which we call
natural, there can exist no such idea as we imply by super-
natural I am obliged to use the word, however, in default
of a better; but the reader must be cautioned against ascrib-
ing to the primitive man a conception like that which the
word gives to us.

This premised, let us, so far as we can, picture the imaginary
environment the primitive man makes for himself, by the
interpretations described in the last four chapters* Incon-
sistent in detail as are the notions he forms concerning
surrounding actions, they are, in their ensemUe, consistent
with the notions that have been set forth as necessarily
generated in him.

§ 117. In every tribe, a death from time to time adds
another ghost to the many ghosts of those who died before.
We have seen that, originally, these ghosts are thought of as
close at hand — haunting the old home, lingering near the
place of burial, wandering about in the adjacent bush.

21G THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Continually accumulating, they form a surrounding popula-
tion ; usually invisible, but some of them occasionally seen.
Here are a few illustrations.

By Australians the supernatural beings thus derived are
supposed to be everywhere : the face of the country swarms
with them — thickets, watering-places, rocks. The Veddahs,
who trust in "the shades of their ancestors and tfieir
children," "believe that the air is peopled with spirits,
that every rock and every tree, every forest and every hill,
in short, every feature of nature, has its genius loci." The
Tasmanians imagine " a host of malevolent spirits and mis-
chievous goblins" in caverns, forests, clefts, mountain-tops.
Where burial within the house prevails, the ghosts of the
dead are conceived to be at the elbows of the living; and
where, as among the aborigines of the Amazons, " some of the
large houses have more than a hundred graves in them/'
they must be thought of as ever jostling their descendants.
" To a Karen, the world is more thickly peopled with spirits
than it is with men. • . . The spirits of the departed
dead crowd around him." Similarly the Tahitians "imagined
they lived in a world of spirits, which surrounded them
night and day, watching every action." Here regarded as
friendly, and here as workers of mischief, the ancestral spirits
are, in some cases, driven away, as by the Nicobar people —

" One© in the year, and sometimes when great sickness prevails, they
the Nicobarians] build a large canoe, and the Minloven, or priest, has
the boat carried close to each house, and then, by his noise, he compels
all the bad spirits to leave the dwelling, and to get into the canoe ;
men, women, and children assist him in his conjuration. The doors of
the house are shut ; the ladder is taken out [the houses are built on
posts 8 or 9 feet high] ; the boat is then dragged along to the seashore,
where it is soon carried off by the waves, with a full cargo of devils."

There is a like custom in the Maldive islands ; and some
of the Indians of California annually expel the ghosts which
have accumulated during the year.

These multitudinous disembodied spirits are agents ever
available, as conceived antecedents to all occurrences needing

THE IDEAS OP SUPl BNATUKAL AGENTS. 217

explanation* It is not requisite that their identification as
ghosts should continue in a distinct form: many of them
are sure to lose this character. The swarms of demons by
whom the Jews thought themselves environed, while re-
garded by some as the spirits of the wicked dead, readily
came to be regarded by others as the offspring of the fallen
angels and the daughters of men. When the genealogies
of an accumulating host have been lost, there remains
nothing to resist any suggested theory respecting their
origin. But though the Arab who thinks the desert is so
thickly peopled with spirits that on throwing anything away
he asks the forgiveness of those which may be struck, prob-
ably does not now regard them as the wandering doubles
of the dead; it is clear that, given the wandering doubles
of the dead, supposed by the primitive man to be everywhere
around, and we have the potentiality of countless super*
natural agencies capable of indefinite variation*

§ 118. Hence the naturalness, and, indeed, the inevit-
ableness, of those interpretations which the savage gives
of surrounding phenomena. With the development of the
ghost-theory, there arises an easy way of accounting for all
those changes which the heavens and earth hourly exhibit.
Clouds that gather and presently vanish, shooting stars that
appear and disappear, sudden darkenings of the water's
surface by a breeze, animal-metamorphoses, transmutations
of substance, storms, earthquakes, eruptions — all of them
are now understood. These beings to whom is ascribed the
power of making themselves visible and invisible at will,
and to whose other powers no limits are known, are omni-
present Explaining, as their agency seems to do, all unex-
pected changes, their own existence becomes further verified.
No other causes for such changes are known, or can be con-
ceived ; therefore these souls of the dead must be the causes ;
therefore the survival of souls is manifest : a circular reason-
ing which suffices many besides savages.

'218 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

The interpretations of nature which precede scientific in-
terpretations, are thus the best that can then be framed. If
by the Karens " unaccountable sounds and sights in the
jungles" are, as Mason says, ascribed to the ghosts of the
wicked, the Karens do but assume an origin which, in the
absence of generalized knowledge, is the only imaginable
origin. If, according to Bastian, the Nicobar people attri-
bute to evil spirits the unlucky events they cannot explain
by ordinary causes, they are simply falling back on such
remaining causes aa they can conceive. Livingstone names
certain rocks which, having been intensely heated by the sun,
and then suddenly cooled externally in the evening, break
with loud reports; and these reports the natives set down
to evil spirits. To what else should they set them down ?
Uncivilized men are far removed from the conception that
a stone may break from unequal contraction; and in the
absence of thia conception, what assignable cause of breaking
is there, but one of these mischievous demons everywhere at
hand ? In his account of the Dandkil, Harris tells us that
" no whirlwind ever sweeps across the path without being
pursued By a dozen savages with drawn creeses, who stab
into the centre of the dusty column in order to drive away
the evil spirit that is believed to be riding on the blast/'
Ludicrous as this notion appears, we have but to remember
that the physical interpretation of a sand-whirlwind cannot
be framed by the savage, to see that the only conceivable
interpretation is that which he gives. Occasionally, too, his
experiences suggest that such agencies are multitudinous,
and everywhere present. Describing a tropical scene,
Humboldt says — " the surface of these sands, heated by
the rays of the sua, seems to be undulating, like the surface
of a liquid • . . the sun animates the landscape, and gives
mobility to the sandy plain, to the trunks of trees, and
to the rocks that project into the sea like promontories."
What shakes the tree-trunks and makes the rocks oscillate ?
There is no alternative but to assume invisible beings

THE IDEAS OF SUPERNATURAL AGENTS. 219

scattered about everywhere. By savages these appearances
cannot be understood as illusions caused by refraction.

As one of the above examples shows, the ghosts of the
dead are in comparatively early stages the assigned agents
for unusual phenomena ; and there are other such examples.
Thomson says the Araucanians think tempests are caused by
the fights which the spirits of their countrymen have with
their enemies. Such interpretations differ from the inter-
pretations of more advanced races, only by presenting the
individualities of dead friends and foes in their original
forms: the eventual fading of these individualities leaves
notions of personal agencies less definite in kind. An
oddy in the river, where floating sticks are whirled round
and engulfed, is not far from the place where one of the
tribe was drowned and never seen again. What more
manifest, then, than that the double of this drowned man,
malicious as the unburied ever are, dwells thereabouts, and
pulls these things under the surface — nay, in revenge, seizes
and drags down persons who venture near? When those
who knew the drowned man are all dead — when, after
generations, the details of the story, thrust aside by more
recent stories, have been lost — and especially when there
comes some conquering tribe, in whose past history the local
stories have no roots; there survives only the belief in a
water-demon haunting the place.* And so throughout.
There is nothing to maintain in tradition the likenesses
between the ghosts and the individuals they were derived
from ; and along with innumerable divergences, there comes

• At the time this was written, I had met with no fact supporting tbie
mforenos; bat the work of Mr. Bancroft on TMe Jfaftse Boots 0/ the Pacific
££***•, has ainoa f uraiahed me with one : —

" Leaving this locality, and subject, I may remark that the natives have
named the Ptfhono Fall, in the same valley, after an erfl spirit; many per*
sons having been swept oyer and dashed to pieces there. No native of the
vicinity will so mnoh as point at thia fall when going through the valley,
nor could anything tempt one of them to sleep near it ; for the ghosts of the
drowned are tossing in its spray, and their wail is heard forever above the
hiss of its rushing water*."— See vol. iii, p. 1X0.

-I

220 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

not only a fading of individual traits, but also at length
a fading of human traits. Varieties pass into species, and
genera, and orders, of supernatural beings.

§ 119. Of course, if the ghosts of the dead, passing
gradually into less distinct but still personal forms, are thiu
the agents supposed to work all the notable effects in the
surrounding world; they are also the agents supposed to
work notable effects in the affairs of men. Ever at hand
and moved by amity or enmity, it is incredible that they
should not interfere with human actions. The soul of a dead
foe is on the watch to cause an accident ; the soul of a late
relative is ready to help and to guard if in good humour, or,
if offended, to make something go wrong.

Hence explanations, universally applicable, of successes and
failures. Among all peoples such explanations have prevailed :
differing only in the extent to which the aiding or hindering
spirits have lost the human character. Low down we have
the Veddah, who looks to the shade of his dead parent or child
to give him success in the chase, and ascribes a bad shot to
the lack of an invocation ; we have the Australian who, * if
a man tumbles out of a tree and breaks his neck," thinks
that " his life has been charmed away by the Boyala-inen of
another tribe;" we have the Ashantees, who "believe that
the spirits of their departed relatives exercise a guardian
care over them," and that " the ghosts of departed enemies
are . . . bad spirits,** who work mischief. Higher up we
have, among the Homeric heroes, feats of arms set down
to the assistance of the supernatural beings who join in the
battle. With Hector "one at least of the gods is ever
present, who wards off death;" and "Menelaus conquered
by Minerva's aid." Dionied is unscathed because an im-
mortal " has turned into another course the swift shaft just
about to hit him;" Paris, dragged by the helmet, would
have been lost had not Venus, "who quickly perceived
it, broke for him the thong;" and Idseus escaped only

TILE IDEAS OF SUPERNATURAL AGENTS. 221

because w Vulcan snatched him away." Be it the Arau-
canian who ascribes success to the aid of his particular
fairy; be it the African chief Livingstone names, who
thought he had ensured the death of an elephant they were
attacking by emptying his snuff-box as an offering to the
IJarimo; be it the Greek whose spear is well fixed in a
Trojan's side by the guiding hand of his favouring deity ;
l»e it the Jew's ministering angel or the Catholic's patron
saint ; there is identity in essentials, and only more or less
of difference in form. The question is solely how far this
evolution of the ghosts of the dead into supernatural agents
has gone.

§ 120. Lastly, and chiefly, we have to note the fact that
this machinery of causation which the primitive man is
inevitably led to frame for himself, fills his mind to the
exclusion of any other machinery. This hypothesis of ghost-
agency gains a settled occupation of the field, long before
there is either the power or the opportunity of gathering
together and organizing the experiences which yield the
hypothesis of physical-force-agency. Even among ourselves,
'with our vast accumulation of definite knowledge, and our
facilities for diffusing it, the displacement of an old doctrine
by a new one is difficult. Judge then its difficulty where
the few facts known remain ungeneralized, unclassified, un-
measured; where the very notions of order, cause, law, are
absent; where criticism and scepticism are but incipient;
and where there is not even the curiosity needful to prompt
inquiry. If, parodying a common adage, we may fitly say that
prepossession is nine points of belief — if this is so even in
the relatively-plastic minds of the civilized; how many
]>oints of belief must it be in the relatively-rigid minds of
the uncivilized ?

Hence the surprise commonly expressed at these primitive
interpretations is an unwarranted surprise. If, as Mr. St.
John tells us, the Dyaks never take the natural explana-

I

222 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

tion of any phenomena, such as an accident, but always
"fly to their superstitions;" they fly to the only kind of
explanation which yet exists for them. The absurdity is
in supposing that the uncivilized man possesses at the outset
the idea of "natural explanation." Only as societies grow,
arts multiply, experiences accumulate, and constant relations
of phenomena become recognized, registered, and familiar,
does the notion of natural explanation become possible.
And now, having seen how the primitive man is led to
I think of the activities in his environment as controlled by
(the spirits of the dead, and by spirits more or less differen-
' tiated from them, let us observe how he is similarly led to
think of such spirits as controlling the activities within his
bodv and within the bodies of other men.

CHAPTER XVII.

8UPEBNATURAL AGEKTB AS CAUSING EPILEPSY AND CONVUL-
SIVE ACTIONS, DELIRIUM AND INSANITY, DISEASE AND
DEATH.

§ 121. The phenomena exhibited during evolution cannot
be placed in serial order. Always there go on divergences
and re-divergences. Setting out with the primitive ideas of
insensibility, of death, and of the ghost, we have traced along
certain lines the developing ideas of another life and another
world ; and along other lines we have traced the developing
ideas of supernatural agents as existing on all sides. Setting
out afresh from the insensible body as the starting point, we
have now to observe how a further class of ideas has been
simultaneously developing by the aid of those we have
considered.

In sleep, in swoon, in trance, in apoplexy, there is almost
complete quiescence; and at death the quiescence becomes
absolute. Usually, then, during the supposed absence of
the other-self, the body does nothing. But sometimes the
body, lying on the ground with eyes closed, struggles
violently; and, after the ordinary state is resumed, the in-
dividual denies having struggled — says that he knows
nothing about those actions of his body which the spectators
saw. Obviously his other-self has been away. But how
dame his body to behave so strangely during the interval ?

224 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

The answer given to this question is the most rational
which the primitive man can give.

§ 122. If, during insensibilities of all kinds, the soul
wanders, and, on returning, causes the body to resume its
activity — if the soul can thus not only go out of the body
but can go into it again ; then may not the body be entered
by some other soul ? The savage thinks it may.

Hence the interpretation of epilepsy. The Congo people
ascribe epilepsy to demoniac possession. Among the East
Africans, "falling sickness" is peculiarly common; and
Burton thinks it has given rise to the prevalent notion of
possession. Of Asiatic races may be instanced the Kalmucks:
by these nomads epileptics are regarded as persons into
whom bad spirits have entered. That the Jews similarly
explained the facts is clear; and the Arabic language has
the same word for epilepsy and possession by devils. It is
needless to show that this explanation persisted among the
civilized up to comparatively-recent times.

The original inference is, then, that while the patient's
other-self has gone away, some disembodied spirit, usurping
its place, uses his body in this violent way. Where we have
a specific account of the conception in its earliest stage, we
learn that the assumed supernatural agent is a ghost. From
the Amazulu cross-examined by Bishop Callaway, there is
brought out the statement that when a diviner is becoming
possessed by the Itongo (ancestral spirits), "he has slight
convulsions." Moreover, a witness who " went to a person
with a familiar spirit to inquire respecting a boy . . . who
had convulsions," got the answer — "he is affected by the
ancestral spirits."

§ 123. A further question conies before the primitive
mind, and a further rational corollary is drawn, which de-
velops into a series of curious but consistent ideas.

Occasionally a person, while still conscious, cannot control

8UPERNATUBAX AGENTS AS CAUSING EPILEPSY, ETC. 225

the actions of his body. He finds himself doing something
without willing it, or even in spite of his wilL Is it, then,
that another soul has entered him ; even though his own
soul has not wandered away ? An affirmative answer is
inevitable.

Hence the explanation of hysteria, with its uncontrollable
and meaningless laughs, sobs, and cries. Among the Ama-
zulu, hysterical symptoms are counted as traits of one who
is becoming an Inyanga, or diviner — one who is becoming
possessed. The remark made by Parkyns respecting the
Abyssinians, that "the greater part of the * possessed' are
women," indicates a kindred interpretation : women being so
much more liable to hysteria than men. And when we read in
Mariner, that among the Tongans inspiration is not confined
to the priests, but is sometimes experienced by others,
especially females, we may reasonably conclude that fits of
hysterics are the signs of inspiration referred to. Indeed, is
not one of the symptoms of the disorder conclusive proof ?
What can be said of the globus hystericus — a ball that is
suddenly felt within the body — unless it is this alleged
possessing spirit ?

Carried thus far, the explanation has to be carried further.
If these more violent actions of the body, performed in
defiaqce of the will, are ascribable to a usurping demon, so,
too, must be the less violent actions of this kind. Hence
the primitive theory of sneezing and yawning. The Amazulu
regard these involuntary actions as marks of possession.
When a man is becoming an Inyanga,

"his head begins to give signs of what is about to happen. He
shows that he is about to be a diviner by yawning again and again,
and by sneezing again and again. And men say, 'No! Truly it
jeems as though this man was about to be possessed by a spirit.'9

In other cases we have proof, not of permanent possession,
but of temporary possession, being inferred from the sneeze.
The Khonds dash water on the priest when they wish to
consult him. He sneezes, and becomes inspired. Of course,

226 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

there is nothing to determine whether this possession is by
a friendly or by an unfriendly spirit: it may be, as among
the Zulus, an ancestral ghost, or, as among other peoples, it
may be a malicious demon. But be the sneeze, as with the
Moslem, a reason for asking Allah to protect him against
Satan as the presumed cause; or be it, as with the Christian,
the occasion of a now-unmeaning "God bless you" from
bystanders; or be it the ground for putting faith in an utter-
ance as inspired ; the root idea is the same : some intruding
spirit has made the body do what its owner did not intend.

Two kindred interpretations may be added Among the
Yakuts there is a disorder accompanied by a violent hiccough,
and " they persist in believing that a devil is in the body of
the person afflicted.1' A neighbouring people, the Kirghiz,
furnish a still stranger instance. Mrs. Atkinson says that a
woman in child-bed is supposed to be possessed by a devil ;
and it is even the custom to beat her for the purpose of
driving him away.

In this last case, as in all the others, there are involuntary
muscular contractions. These may reasonably be ascribed to
possession, if those of epilepsy are so ; and we see that the
ascription of epilepsy to possession is an implication of the
original ghost-theory.

§ 124. Certain allied phenomena, explicable in like manner
and otherwise inexplicable, further confirm the doctrine of
possession. I refer to the phenomena of delirium and
madness.

What is come to this man who, lying prostrate, and
refusing to eat, does not know those around; now mutters
incoherently or talks nonsense; now speaks to some one
the bystanders cannot see; now shrinks in terror from an
invisible foe ; now laughs without a cause ? And how does
it happen that when he has become calm he either knows
nothing about these strange doings of his, or narrates things
which no one witnessed ? Manifestly one of these spirits or

SUPERNATURAL AGENTS AS CAUSING EPILEPSY, ETC. 227

gliosts, swarming around, had entered his body at night while
he was away, and had thus abused it That savages do thus
interpret the facts we have not much evidence: probably
because travellers rarely witness among them this kind of
mental disturbance. Still, Petherick says the Arabs suppose
that "in high fever, when a person is delirious, he is
possessed by the devil"

But when from temporary insanity we pass to permanent
insanity, we everywhere find proof that this is the inter-
pretation given. The Samoans attribute madness to the
presence of an evil spirit; as also do the Tongans. The
Sumatrans, too, consider that lunatics are possessed. Among
more advanced races the interpretation has been, and still
remains, the same. When the writer of Rambles in Syria
tells us that, "in the East, madness is tantamount to in*
spiration," we are reminded that if there is any difference
between this conception and the conceptions recorded of
old, it concerns only the nature of the possessing spirit.
These earlier records, too, yield evidence that the original
form of the belief was the form above inferred. " According
to Josephus, demons are the spirits of the wicked dead : they
enter into the bodies of the living." As the possessed were
said to frequent burial-places, and as demons were supposed
to make tombs their favourite haunts, we may conclude that
by Jews in general the possessing spirit was at first conceived
as a ghost

The continuance of this view of insanity through mediaeval
days, down to the days when the 72nd canon of our Church
tacitly embodied it by forbidding the casting out of devils
without a special licence, is easy to understand. Only after
science had made familiar the idea that mental states result
from nervous actions, which can be disordered by physical
causes, did it become possible to conceive the madman's
amazing ideas and passions in any other way than as the
expressions of some nature unlike his own.
We must not overlook a verification which the behaviour

Q 2

r

228 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY,

of the insane yields to the belief in surrounding ghosts of
spirits. The uncivilized or semi-civilized man knows nothing
about subjective illusions. What then must he think when
he hears a maniac talking furiously to an invisible person,
or throwing a missile at some being, unseen by others, whom
he wants to drive away? His frantic gestures, his glaring
eyes, his shrieking voice, make it impossible to doubt the
strength of his belief. Obviously, then, there are mischievous
demons around: manifest to him, but not to bystanders.
Any who doubted the existence of supernatural agents can
no longer doubt.

One further noteworthy idea is thus yielded. In his
paroxysms, an insane person is extremely strong — strong
enough to cope single-handed with several men. What is
the inference? The possessing demon has superhuman
energy. The belief thus suggested has developments here-
after to be observed.

§ 125. Once established, this mode of explaining unusual
actions, mental and bodily, extends itself. Insensibly it
spreads from abnormalities of the kinds above instanced,
to those of other kinds. Diseases are soon included under
the theory. As in fever bodily derangement co-exists with
mental derangement, the inference is that the same agent
causes both. And if some unhealthy states are produced by
indwelling demons, then others are thus produced. A
malicious spirit is either in the body, or is hovering around,
inflicting evil on it.

The primitive form of this interpretation is shown us by
the Amazulu, Even a stitch in the side they thus explain :
" if the disease lasts a long time/' they say, " he is affected
by the Itongo. He is affected by his people who are dead."
The Samoans supposed that the spirits of the dead "had
power to return, and cause disease and death in other
members of the family." As we saw in § 92, the New
Caledonians "think white men are the spirits of the dead,

.

SUPKRNATUBAL AGENTS A3 CAUSING EPILEPSY, ETC. 229

and bring sickness." The Dyaks who, like the Australians,
attribute every disease to spirits, like them, too, personify
diseases. They will not call the small-pox by its name ; but
ask — " Has he yet left you ?" Sometimes they call it " the
chief." In these cases ghosts are the assumed agents ; and
in some of them, occupation of the sufferer's body is alleged
or implied. In other cases, the supernatural agent, not
specified in its origin, appears to be regarded as external.
By the Arawfiks, pain is called "the evil spirit's arrow;"
and the Land-Dyaks believe that sickness is occasionally
* caused by spirits inflicting on people invisible wounds with
invisible spears." But everywhere the supposed cause is
personal. In Asia, the Karens "attribute' diseases to the
influence of unseen spirits." By the Lepchas, all ailments
"are deemed the operations of devils;" as also by the Bodo
and Dhim&la In Africa, the Coast Negroes ascribe illness
to witchcraft or the operations of the gods^- the Eoossas
consider it caused by enemies and evil spirits; and the
offended ancestor of a Zulu is represented as* saying— "I
will reveal myself by disease." In America, the Comanche*
think a malady is due to the " blasting breath" of a foe ; and
the Mundruciis regard it as the spell of an unknown enemy.
If instead of " ghost " we read " supernatural agent," the
savage theory becomes the semi-civilized theory. The earliest
recorded hero of the Babylonians, Izdubar, is smitten with a
grievous malady by the offended goddess Ishtar. In the
first book of the Iliad, the Greeks who die of pestilence are
represented as hit by Apollo's arrows — an idea parallel to
one of the savage ideas above named. It was believed by
the Jews that dumbness and blindness ceased when the
devils causing them were ejected. And in after-times, the
Fathers held that demons inflicted diseases. How

persistent this kind of interpretation has been, we are shown
by the fact that the production of illness by witches, who
instigate devils, is even now alleged among the uncultured ;
and by the fact that some of the cultured still countenance

230 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

the belief that illness is diabolically caused. A State-
authorized expression of this theory of disease is often
repeated by priests. In the order for the visitation of the
sick, one of the prayers is, " renew in him " " whatsoever has
been decayed by the fraud and malice of the devil/'

§ 126. After contemplating the genesis of the foregoing
beliefs, the accompanying belief that death is due to super*
natural agency will no longer surprise us.

In one form or other this belief occurs everywhere. The
Uaupd Indians, Wallace tells us, "scarcely seem to think
that death can occur naturally;" and Hearne says the
Chippewayans ascribe the deaths of their chiefs to witch-
craft—commonly by the Esquimaux. The Kalmucks believe
that " death is caused by some spirit at the command of the
deity ; " the Eookies attribute death, as well as all earthly
evils, to supernatural causes; and the Khonds hold "that
death is not the necessary and appointed lot of man, but that
it is incurred only as a special penalty for offences against
the gods." The Bushmen think death is chiefly due to
witchcraft ; and by the Bechuanas, death, even in old age, is
ascribed to sorcery. The Coast Negroes think " no death is
natural or accidental;" Burton says that " in Africa, as in
Australia, no man, however old, dies a natural death;" and
the Loaago people do not believe in natural death, even from
drowning or other accident The Tahitians regarded the
effects of poisons as "more the effects of the god's dis-
pleasure, . . . than the effects of the poisons themselves.
. . . Those who were killed in battle were also supposed
to die from the influence of the gods." And kindred ideas
are current among the Sandwich Islanders, the Tannese, and
various other peoples.

A sequence must be named. Eventually the individu-
alities of the particular demons supposed to have caused
death, merge in a general individuality—a personalized
Death: the personalization probably beginning, every where,

SUPERNATURAL AGENTS AS CAUSING EPILEPSY, ETC. 231

in the tradition of some ferocious foe whose directly-seen
acts of vengeance were multitudinous, and to whom, after-
wards, unseen acts of vengeance were more and more
ascribed. Be this as it may, however, we may trace the
evolution of these primitive notions into those which existed
in classic times and medieval times. At a Naga's burial,
his friends arm themselves, and challenge the spirit who
caused his death. Of the Tasmanians, Mr. Davis relates
that, " during the whole of the first night after the death of
one of their tribe, they will sit round the body, using rapidly
a low, continuous recitative, to prevent the evil spirit from
taking it away. Such evil spirit being the ghost of an
enemy." On the other hand, among the Kora-Hottentots
the conception has become partially generalized : they per-
sonalize death — say " Death sees thee." Which several facts
show us the root of the belief implied by the story of Alcestis,
who is rescued from the grasp of the strong Death by the still
stronger Hercules ; and also the root of the belief implied by
the old representations of Death as a skeleton, holding a
dart or other weapon.

In the minds of many, the primitive notion still lingers.
When reading with astonishment that savages, not recognizing
natural death, ascribe all death to supernatural agency, we
forget that even now supernatural agency is assigned in
cases where the cause of death is not obvious — nay, in some
cases where it is obvious. We still occasionally read the
coroner's verdict — " Died by the visitation of God ; " and we
still meet people who think certain deaths (say the drown-
ings of those who go boating on Sundays) directly result
from divine vengeance : a belief differing from these savage
beliefs only in a modified conception of the supernatural
agent

§ 127. Considered thus as following from the primitive
interpretation of dreams, and consequent theory of ghost?,
souls, or spirits, these conclusions are quite consistent

232 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

If souls can leave bodies and re-enter them, why should
not bodies be entered by strange souls, while their own
souls are absent ? If, as in epilepsy, the body performs acts
which the owner denies having performed, there is no choice
but to assume such an agency. And if certain uncon-
trollable movements, as those of hysteria, as well as the
familiar ones of sneezing, yawning, and hiccough, take place
involuntarily, the conclusion must be that some usurping
spirit directs the actions of the subject's body in spite of him.

This hypothesis explains, too, the strange behaviour of
the delirious and the insane. That a maniac's body has
been taken possession of by an enemy, is proved by the fact
that it is impelled to self-injury. Its right owner would not
make the body bite and tear itself, Further, the possessing
demon is heard to hold converse with other demons, which
he sees but which bystanders do not see.

And if these remarkable derangements of body and mind
are thus effected, the manifest inference is that diseases and
disorders of less remarkable kinds are effected in the same
way. Should there not be a demon within the body, there
must be, at any rate, some invisible enemy at hand, who is
working these strange perturbations in it.

Often occurring after long-continued disease, death must
be caused by that which caused the disease. Whenever the
death has no visible antecedent, this is the only possible
supposition ; and even when there is a visible antecedent, it
is still probable that there was some demoniacal interference.
The giving way of his foothold and consequent fatal fall of a
companion down a precipice, or the particular motion which
carried a spear into his heart, was very likely determined by
the malicious spirit of a foe.

CHAPTER XVIIL

INSPIRATION, DIVINATION, EXORCISM, AND SORCERY.

§ 128. If a man's body may be entered by a " wicked
soul of the dead " enemy, may it not be entered by a friendly
soul ? If the straggles of the epileptic, the ravings of the
delirious, the self-injuries of the insane, are caused by an
indwelling demon ; then must not the transcendent power or
marvellous skill occasionally displayed, be caused by an
indwelling beneficent spirit ? If, even while a man is con-
scious, the ghost of a foe may become joint occupant of his
body and control its actions in spite of him, so producing
hiccough, and sneezing, and yawning ; may not joint occu-
pancy be assumed by an ancestral ghost, which co-operates
with him instead of opposing him : so giving extra strength,
or knowledge, or cunning ?

These questions the savage consistently answers in the
affirmative. There result the ideas to be here glanced at.

§ 129. The fact that maniacs, during their paroxysms, are
far stronger than men in their normal states, raises, as we
before saw, the belief that these supernatural agents have
superhuman energies.

That manifestations of unusual will and strength are thus
accounted for, we find proofs among early traditions. En-
couraging Diomede, Minerva says — "In thy breast have I
set thy father's courage undaunted, even as it was in knightly
Tydeus:" words implying some kind of inspiration — some

234 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

breathing-in of a soul that bad been breathed-out of a father.
More distinctly is this implied by certain legendary histories
of the Egyptians. In the third Sallier papyrus, narrating a
conquest, Eamses II invokes his * father Ammon," and has
the reply — * Ramses Miamon, I am with thee, I thy father
Ra. . . . I am worth to thee 100,000 joined in one." And
when Eamses, deserted by his own army, proceeds single-
handed to slay the army of his foes, they are represented as
saying — " No mortal born is he whoso is among us."

Here several points of significance are observable. The
ancestral ghost was the possessing spirit, giving superhuman
strength. Along with development of this ancestral ghost
into a great divinity had gone increase of this strength from
something a little above the human to something immeasur-
ably above the human. The conception, common to all these
ancient races — Egyptians, Babylonians, Assyrians, Greeks —
was that gods, otherwise much like men, were distinguished
by power transcending that of men; and this conception,
subject to no restraint, readily expanded into the conception
of omnipotence. A concomitant result was that any display
of bodily energy exceeding that which was ordinary, raised in
observers the suspicion, either that there was possession by a
supernatural being, or that a supernatural being in disguise
was before them.

§ 130. Similarly with extraordinary mental power. If an
incarnate spirit, having either the primitive character of an
ancestral ghost or some modified and developed character,
can give superhuman strength of body, then it can give, too,
superhuman intelligence and superhuman passion.

We are now so remote from this doctrine of inspiration, as
to have difficulty in thinking of it as once accepted literally.
Some existing races, as the Tahitians, do indeed show us, in
its original form, the belief that the priest when inspired
u ceased to act or speak as a voluntary agent, but moved and
spoke as entirely under supernatural influence ;* and so they

INSPIRATION, DIVINATION, EXORCISM, AND SORCERY. 235

make real to us the ancient belief that prophets were chan-
nels for divine utterances. But we less clearly recognize the
truth that the inspiration of the poet was at first conceived
in the same way. " Sing, 0 goddess, the destructive wrath of
Achilles," was not, like the invocations of the Muses in later
times, a rhetorical form ; but was an actual prayer for posses-
sion. The Homeric belief was, that " all great and glorious
thoughts . . . come from a god." Of course, this mode of
interpreting ideas and feelings admits of unlimited extension ;
and hence the assumption of a supernatural cause, made on
the smallest suggestion, becomes habitual. In the Iliad,
Helen is represented as having an ordinary emotion excited
in her by Iris ; who " put into her heart, sweet longing for
her former husband, and her city, and parents." Nor does
the interpretation extend itself only to exaltations, emotional
or intellectual. In the Homeric view, " not the doers of an
evil deed, but the gods who inspire the purpose of doing it,
are the real criminals ;" and even a common error of judg-
ment the early Greek explains by saying — a a god deceived
me that I did this thing."

How this theory, beginning with that form still shown us
by such savages as the Congoese, who ascribe the contortions
of the priest to the inspiration of the fetish, and differen-
tiating into inspirations of the divine and the diabolical
kinds, has persisted and developed, it is needless to show in
detail. It still lives in both sacred and secular thought ; and
between the earliest and latest views the unlikeness is far less
than we suppose. When we read in Brinton that " among
the Tahkalis the priest is accustomed to lay his hand on the
head of the nearest relative of the deceased, and to blow into
him the soul of the departed, which is supposed to come to
life in his next child ;" we are reminded that in the service
for ordaining priests there are the words — " Beceive the Holy
Ghost for the office and work of a priest .in the Church of
God, now committed unto thee by the imposition of our
hands." Not only in the theory of Apostolic Succession do

236 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

we see this modified form of the savage belief in inspiration,
but we see it, with a difference, in the ideas of the most
nnsacerdotal of our sects, the Quakers. Being moved by
the spirit, as they understand it, is being temporarily pos-
sessed or inspired. And then, in its secular application, the
primitive notion has left a trace in the qualitative distinc-
tion, still asserted by some, between genius and talent.

§ 131. There is but a nominal difference between the facts
just grouped under the head of inspiration, and the facts to
be grouped under the head of divination. The diviner is
simply the inspired man using his supernatural power for
particular ends.

The ideas of the Amazulu, which have been so carefully
ascertained, we may again take as typical. Mark, first, that
bodily derangement, leading to mental perturbation, is the
usual preliminary. Fasting is requisite. They say " the con*
tinually-stuffed body cannot see secret things." Moreover,
" a man who is about to be an inyanga • . . does not
sleep, ... his sleep is merely by snatches," "he becomes
a house of dreams." Mark, next, that mental perturbation,
rising to a certain point, is taken as proof of inspiration.
Where the evidence is not strong, " some dispute and say,
* No. The fellow is merely mad. There is no Itongo [ances-
tral ghost] in him.' Others say, ' 0, there is an Itongo in
him ; he is already an inyanga.' " And then mark, further,
that the alleged possession is proved by his success : doubters
say — " We might allow that he is an inyanga if you had con-
cealed things for him to find, and he had discovered what you
had concealed."

The conception here so clearly implied is traceable in all
cases : the chief difference being in the supposed nature of
the indwelling supernatural agent. Such mode of living as
produces abnormal excitement, is everywhere a preparation
for the diviner's office. Everywhere, too, this excitement is
ascribed to the possessing ghost, demon, or divinity ; and the

INSPIRATION, DIVINATION, EXORCISM, AND 80RCERY. 237

words uttered are his. Of the inspired Fijian priest, Wil-
liams says :—

"All his words and actions are considered as no longer his own, but
those of the deity who has entered into him, . . , While giving the
answer, the priest's eyes stand out and roll as in a frenzy ; his voice is
unnatural, his face pale, his lips livid, his breathing depressed, and his
entire appearance like that of a furious madman."

And just the same constituents of the belief are shown by
the Santala. Starving many days, the Santal priest brings
on a state of half wildness. He then answers questions
through the power of the possessing god. And in the case
named by Sherwill, this god was " formerly a chief amongst
them,"

The views of the semi-civilized and civilized need mention
only to show their kinship. As represented by Homer, " the
gods maintain an intercourse with men as part of the ordi-
nary course of their providence, and this intercourse consists
principally in revelations of the divine will, and specially of
future events, made to men by oracular voices," etc. Here
we are shown likeness in nature, though some unlikeness in
form, between the utterances of the Greek oracle and those of
the Zulu Inyanga, to whom the ancestral ghost says — " You
will not speak with the people ; they will be told by us every-
thing they come to enquire about," Greater deviation in
non-essentials has left unchanged the same essentials in the
notions current throughout Christendom ; beginning with the
" inspired writers," whose words were supposed to be those
of an indwelling holy spirit, and ending with the Pope, who
says his infallible judgments have a like origin.

§ 132. Inevitably there comes a further development of
these ideas. When the ghost of an enemy has entered a
man's body, can it not be driven out ? And if this cannot
otherwise be done, can it not be done by supernatural aid ?
If some men are possessed to their hurt by spirits of evil,
while others are possessed to their benefit by friendly spirits,

238 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

as powerful or more powerful, is it not possible by the help
of the good spirits to undo the mischief done by the bad
ones — perhaps to conquer and expel them ? This possi-
bility is reasonably to be inferred. Hence exorcism.

The medicine-man is primarily an exorcist. What Rowlatt
tells us of the Mishmis, that, in illness, a priest is sent for to
drive away the evil spirit, is told us directly or by impli-
cation in hosts of instances. The original method is that of
making the patient's body so disagreeable a residence that the
demon will not remain in it In some cases very heroic
modes of doing this are adopted ; as by the Sumatrans, who,
in insanity, try to expel the spirit by putting the insane
person into a hut, which they set fire to, leaving him to
escape as he best can. Probably various other extreme
•measures described, including the swallowing of horrible
things, and the making intolerable smells, have the pur-
pose of disgusting the intruder. Generally, also, the exorcist
tries to alarm the mischievous tenant by shouts, and gesticu-
lations, and fearful faces. Among the Californian tribes, the
doctor " squats down opposite the patient and barks at him
after the manner of an enraged cur, for hours together f and
a Koniaga-doctorTias a female assistant who does the groan-
ing and growling. Sometimes with other means is joined
physical force. Among the Columbian Indians, the medicine-
man "proceeds to force the evil spirit from the sick man by
pressing both clenched fists with all his might in the pit of
his stomach." As a type of such processes may be taken
that ascribed by Herrera to the Indians of Gumana : —

" If the disease increased, they said the patient was possessed with
spirits, stroked all the body over, used words of enchantment, licked
dome joints, and sacked, saying they drew out spirits ; took a twig of a
certain tree, the virtue whereof none but the physician knew, tickled
their own throats with it, till they vomited and bled, sighed, roared,
quaked, stamped, made a thousand faces, sweated for two hours, and at
last brought up a sort of thick phlegm, with a little, hard, black ball in
the middle of it, which those that belonged to the sick person carried
into the field, saying — ' Go thy way, DeviL* *

INSPIRATION, DIVINATION, XXOBCISM, AND SOECERY. 239

But in what we may consider the more-developed form of
exorcism, one demon is employed to drive out another. The
medicine-man or priest conquers the demon in the patient by
the help of a demon with which he is himself possessed ; or
else he summons a friendly supernatural power to his aid.

Everyone knows that, in this last form, exorcism con*
tinues during civilization. In their earlier days the Hebrews
employed some physical process, akin to the processes we find
among savages ; such as making a dreadful stench by burn-
ing the heart and liver of a fish. Through such exorcism,
taught by the angel Kaphael, the demon Asmodeus was
driven out — fled to Egypt when he " had smelled " the
smoke. But later, as in the exorcisms of Christ, the physical
process was replaced by the compulsion of superior super-
natural agency. In this form exorcism still exists in the
Roman Catholic Church, which has specially-ordained
exorcists; and it was daily practised in the Church of
England in the time of Edward VI, when infants were
exorcized before baptism, in the words — " I command thee,
unclean spirit, in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of
the Holy Ghost, that thou come out, and depart from these
infants." Occasional exorcism continued till 1665, if not
later : a clergyman named Buddie, licensed to exorcize by
the Bishop of Exeter, having then, according to his own
account, succeeded in laying the ghost of a woman, by
using the means appointed for dealing with demons — magic
circle, " pentacle," etc. Nor is this all. It has been an
ecclesiastical usage, lasting down to Protestant times, to
exorcize the water used in divine service : a practice implying
the primitive notion that invisible demons swarm every-
where around.

In this, as in other cases, we may still trace the original
nature of the supernatural agent Malicious ghosts which
annoy the living because their bodies have been ill-treated,
differ but little from evil spirits which vex the living by
possessing them. The instance given above, clearly implies

240 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

that the laying of ghosts and the exorcism of demons, are
but modifications of the same thing. The Amazulu show
the two in ^distinguishable forms. Concerning a woman
persecuted by the ghost of her dead husband, we read : —

" If it trouble her when she has gone to another man without being
as yet married ; if she has left her husband's children behind, the dead
husband follows her and asks, * With whom have you left my children 1
What are you going to do here ? Go back to my children. If you do
not assent I will kill you.1 The spirit is at once laid in that village
because it harasses the woman.1'

Of course, as civilization advances, the processes differ-
entiate; so that while evil spirits are commanded or con-
jured, ghosts are pacified by fulfilling their requests. But
since the meanings of ghost, spirit, demon, devil, angel, were
at first the same, we may infer that what eventually became
the casting out of a devil, was originally an expulsion of the
malicious double of a dead man.

§ 133. A medicine-man who, helped by friendly ghosts,
expels malicious ghosts, naturally asks himself whether he
may not get ghostly aid for other purposes. Can he not by
such aid revenge himself on enemies, or achieve ends not else
possible ? The belief that he can initiates sorcery.

A primitive form of this belief is shown us by the Kaffirs,
who think dead bodies are restored to life by bad persons,
and made hobgoblins to aid them in mischief. Here we
have direct identification of the familiar demon with the
deceased man When we read that the Tahitians think
sickness and death are produced by the incantations of
priests, who induce the evil spirits to enter the sick; or
when we read that most misfortunes are attributed by the
Australians " to the power which hostile tribes possess over
the spirits and demons which infest every corner of the
land;" we recognize the same notion less specifically stated.
In the fact that by Jewish writers " a necromancer is defined
as one who fasts and lodges at night amongst tombs, in order
that the evil spirit may come upon him ;" we have a hint of

INSPIRATION, DIVINATION, EXORCISM, AlND SORCERY. 241

a kindred belief in an early historic race. And we see the
connexion between these original forms of the conception
and those derived forms of it which have survived among
the more civilized.

The operations of the sorcerer, having for their primary
end the gaining of power over a living person, and having
for their secondary end (which eventually becomes pre-
dominant) the gaining of power over the souls of dead
persons, or supernatural agents otherwise conceived, are
guided by a notion which it will be instructive to consider.

In § 52 it was shown why, originally, the special power or
property of an object is supposed to be present in all its
parts. This mode of thinking, we saw, prompted certain
actions. Others such may here be instanced. The belief
that the qualities of any individual are appropriated by
eating him, is illustrated by the statement of Stanbridge,
that when the Australians kill an infant, they feed a
previously-born child with it ; believing " that by its
eating as much as possible of the roasted infant, it will
possess the strength of both." Elsewhere, dead relatives are
consumed in pursuance of an allied belief. We read of the
Cucamas that "as soon as a relation died, these people
assembled and ate him roasted or boiled, according as he
was thin or fat." The Tarianas and Tucanos, who drink the
ashes of their relatives, " believe that thus the virtues of the
deceased will be transmitted to the drinkers ; " and an allied
people, the Arawftks, think it " the highest mark of honour
they could pay to the dead, to drink their powdered bones
mixed in water." Scarcely less significant is a custom of the
whale-fishing Koniagas. " When a whaler dies, the body is
cut into small pieces and distributed among his fellow-
craftsmen, each of whom, after rubbing the point of his lance
upon it, dries and preserves his piece as a sort of talisman.
Or the body is placed in a distant cave, where, before setting
out upon a chase, the whalers all congregate, take it out,
cany it to a stream, immerse it, and then drink of the

R

242 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

water." The particular virtue possessed by an

aggregate is supposed not only to inhere in all parts of it,
but to extend to whatever is associated with it Even its
appearance is regarded as a property which cannot exist
apart from its other properties. Hence the dislike often
shown by savages to having their portraits taken. Along
with this lively representation they think there must go
some part of the life. A belief like that of the Chinooks
who, if photographed, " fancied that their spirit thus passed
into the keeping of others, who could torment it at pleasure/'
or that of the Mapuchls, who hold that to have a man's like-
ness is to have a fatal power over him, will be fully ex-
emplified hereafter under another head. For the present, it
must suffice to name this belief, as further showing the
ways in which unanalytical conceptions of things work
out One more way must be added. Even with

the name* there is this association. The idea betrayed by
our own uncultured that some intrinsic connexion exists
between word and thing (an idea which even the cultured
among the Greeks did not get rid of) is betrayed still more
distinctly by savages. From all parts of the world come
illustrations of the desire to keep a name secret Burton
remarks it of North Americans, and Smith of some South
Americans. The motive for this secrecy was dearly expressed
by the Chinook who thought Kane's desire to know his name
proceeded from a wish to steal it Indeed, as Bancroft puts
it, " with them the name assumes a personality ; it is the
shadow or spirit, or other-self, of the flesh and blood person."
An allied interpretation is shown among the Land-Dyaks,
who often change the names of their children, especially if
they are sickly : " there being an idea that they will deceive
the inimical spirits by following this practice." And in
another direction this belief works out in the widely-preva-
lent repugnance to naming the dead. That which Dove tells
lis of the. Tasmanians, that they fear " pronouncing the name
by which a deceased friend was known, as if his shade might

INSPIRATION, DIVINATION, EX0ECI8M, AND SORCERY. 243

thus be offended," is told us, with or without the assigned
motive, by travellers from many regions.

The facta thus grouped make sufficiently clear the genesis
ef the sorcerer's beliefs and practices. Everywhere he begins
by obtaining a part of his victim's body, or something closely
associated with his body, or else by making a representation
of him ; and then he does to this part, or this representation,
something which he thinks is thereby done to his victim.
The Patagonians hold that possession of a man's hair or
nails enables the magician to work evil on him ; and this is
the general conception. New Zealanders " all dread cutting
their nails" for this reason. By the Amazulu, "sorcerers are
supposed to destroy their victims by taking some portion of
their bodies, as hair or nails; or something that has been
worn next their person, as a piece of old garment, and adding
to it certain medicines, which is then buried in some secret
place." Ancient Peruvian magicians did the like by acting
on blood taken from them. Among the Tannese this fatal
power over any one is exercised by operating on the remnants
of his meals. Probably the idea is that these remnants
continue to be connected with the portions he has eaten,
and that have become part of him. They believe that —

u men can create disease and death by burning what is called nahak.
Nahak means rubbish, but principally refuse of food. Everything of
the kind they bury or throw into the sea, lest the disease-makers should
get hold of it ... If a disease-maker was ill himself, he felt sure that
some one must be burning his nahak."

Spells which originate in the belief that a representation is
physically connected with the thing represented, might be
exemplified from societies in all stages. Keating tells us of
the Chippewas, that a sorcerer transfers a disease by making
a " wooden image of his patient's enemy," piercing it to the
heart, and introducing powders: a method identical with
methods indicated in tales of European witchcraft.

Turning from this simpler form of magic to the form
in which supernatural agents are employed, there comes the

H 2

#44 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY

question — Does not the second grow out of the first ? Reasons
exist for thinking that it does. On remembering how small
a difference the primitive man recognizes between the living
and the dead, we may suspect that he thinks the two can be
similarly acted upon. If possessing a portion of a living
man gives power over him, will not possessing a portion
of a dead man give power over him too? That by some
peoples the deceased is supposed to have need of all his
parts, has already been shown. We saw, in § 88, that the
Mexicans put his bones where he could easily find them at
the resurrection ; and that a dead Peruvian's hair and nails
were preserved for him in one place. A like custom has a
like assigned reason among the Inland Negroes in Ardrah.
Ifc there not, then, the implication that one who obtains such
relics thereby obtains a means of hurting, and therefore of
coercing, the dead owner ? Accept this implication, and the
meaning of enchantments becomes clear. Habitually there
is destructive usage; and habitually the things bruised, or
burned, or boiled, are fragments of dead things, brute or
human, but especially human. Speaking of the Ancient
Peruvians, Arriaga says that by "a certain powder ground
from the bones of the dead/' a sorcerer " stupifies all in the
house." During early times in Europe, it was thought
dangerous " to leave corpses unguarded, lest they should be
mangled by the witches, who took from them the most
choice ingredients composing their charms." Our own Parlia-
ment, so late even as 1604, enacted a death-penalty on any
one who exhumed a corpse, or any part of it, to be used in
" witchcrafte, sorcerie, charme, or inchantment." Portions of
the dead man having been the elements originally used, and
such portions having repulsiveness as their most conspicuous
trait, repulsive things in general naturally suggested them-
selves as things likely to strengthen the " hell-broth/' Espe-
cially if animal-souls, or the souls of metamorphosed human
beings, were to be coerced, there might be looked for those
strange mixtures of "eye of newt, and toe of frog," etc., which

•-- - hii ■«jwK«3asaBsas=aaHB0!«!Rne*E:

INSPIRATION, DIVINATION, EXORCISM, AND SORCERY. 245

the witch -cauldron contains.* That some such

relationship exists between the arts of the necromancer and
these ideas of the savage, we find farther reason to suspect
in the supposed potency of names. The primitive notion
that a man's name forms a part of him, and the derivative
notion that calling the dead by their names affects them and
may offend them, originate the necromancer's notion of invo-

• Just after this was written, there came to me a striking verification of
the inference drawn in it. In a letter of thanks to Mr. Bancroft, for the
first Tolume of his Native Races of the Pacific State*, having implied that I
greatly valued, for my own purposes, his laborious compilation, Mr. Bancroft
was so obliging as to send me forthwith the proofs of large parts of the
remaining volumes. In those of Vol. Ill, a paragraph on p. 147 describes
the initiation of a shaman among the Thlinkeets. Going to the woods, and
feeding for some weeks " only on the roots of the pana&horridmm" he waits
tiU " the chief of the spirits " [who is an ancestral shaman] sends him " a
r ver-otter, in the tongue of which animal is supposed to be hid the whole
power and secret of shamanism. ... If, however, the spirits will not
visit the would-be shaman, nor give him any opportunity to get the otter-
tongue as described above, the neophyte visits the tomb of a dead shaman
and keeps an awful vigil over night, holding in his living mouth a finger of
the dead man or one of his teeth j this constrains the spirits very powerfully
to send the necessary otter."

Here, more fitly than elsewhere, I may point out that1 we thus get an
explanation of amulets. Portions of dead men and dead animals, though not
exclusively the things used for them, are the ordinary things.*. That which
the sorcerer employs as an instrument of coercion, is, when a» talisman, held
as securing the good offices of the ghost, or as a protection against it. The
custom, common among savages, of wearing about them bones of dead rela-
tives, has probably this meaning ; which, as we saw, was the avowed meaning
of the Koniaga-whalers in keeping as charms bits of the flesh of a dead com-
panion. This notion is implied in the fact that " an Ashantee sovereign carried
the head of his predecessor with him to battle as a charm." Baces who are
in danger from ferocious animals, often use as amulets the presorvable parts
of such animals. Of the Damans, Andersson says that their amulets are
generally the teeth of lions and hysmas, entrails' of animals, etc. j and that
the Namaqua-amulets consist "as usual of the teeth and claws of lions,
hysmas, and other wild beasts j pieces of wood, bone, dried flesh and fat,
foots of plants, etc" Among the charms belonging to a Dyak medicine-man
were — some teeth of alligators and honey bears, several boar's tusks, chips of
deer horn, tangles of eoloured thread, claws of some animals, and odds and
ends of European articles. Elsewhere the motive is specified. Enumerating
the amulets of the Br&xilian Indian, Spix and Martius name the " eye-teeth
of ounces and monkeys 5 " and they say the Indian thinks his amulets, among
other benefits, " will protect him against the attacks of wild beasts."

$46 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY; .

cation. Everywhere, be it in the Hebrew legend of Samuel,
whose ghost asks why he has been disquieted, or in an
Icelandic saga, which describes ghosts severally summoned
by name as answering to the summons, we get evidence that
possession of the name is supposed to give over the dead an
-influence like that which it is supposed to give over the
living. The power acquired by knowledge of the name is
again implied by such stories as the "open Sesame" of the
Arabian Nights ; and the alleged effect of calling the name
we see in the still-extant* though now jocose, saying — "Talk
of the devil and he is sure to appear."

Special interpretations: aside, however, the general inter-
pretation is sufficiently manifest The primitive ghost-
theory, implying but little ' difference between dead and
living, fosters the notion that the dead can be acted on
by arts like those which act on the living; and hence results
that species of magic which, in its .earlier form, is a sum-
moning of the dead to get -from them information, as the
witch of Endor summons the spirit of Samuel, and in its
later form is a raising of demons to help in mischief.

§ 134 Exorcism and sorcery pass insensibly into miracle.
What difference exists refers less to the natures of the
effects worked than to the characters of the agents working
them. If the marvellous results are ascribed to a super-
natural being at enmity with the observers, the art is
sorcery; but if ascribed to a friendly supernatural being,
the marvellous results are classed as miracles.

This is well shown in the contest between the Hebrew
priests and the magicians of Egypt. From Pharaoh's point
of view, Aaron was an enchanter working by the help of a
spirit antagonistic to himself; while his own priests worked
by the help of his favouring gods. Contrariwise, from the
point of view of the Israelites, the achievements of their
own leaders were divine, and those of their antagonists
diabolical. But both believed that supernatural agency was

■E^^WBK

INSPIRATION, DIVINATION, EXOBCISM, XSD SORCEEY. 247

Employed, and that the more powerful supernatural agent
had to be yielded to.

Alleged ancient miracles of another order are paralleled in
their meanings by alleged miracles now wrought every day
in South Africa. By the Bechuanas, missionaries are taken
for another sort of rain-makers ; and among the Yorubas,
"an old farmer, seeing a cloud, will say to a missionary,
' please let it rain for us.' " Bain being thus, in these arid
regions, as in the East, synonymous with blessing, we find
contests between rain-doctors, or "heaven-herds," like that
between Elijah and the priests of Baal. There are similar
trials of strength, and kindred penalties for failure. In
Zululand, at a time when "the heaven was hot and dry/'
a rain-doctor, " Umkqaekana, says — ' let the people look at
the heaven at such a time ; it will rain.' . . . And when it
rained, the people said — ' truly, he is a doctor.' . . . After
that year the heaven was hard, .and it did not rain. The
people persecuted him exceedingly. ... It is said they
poisoned him." Habitually we find this same conception
of the weather-doctor, as, in the words of Bishop Callaway,
Ma priest to whom is entrusted the power of prevailing
mediation;" and habitually we find both his mediatory
power and the power of the supernatural agent with whom
he has influence, tested by the result. Thus, in the account
of his captivity in Brazil, the old voyager, Hans Stade,
saying, "God did a wonder through me," narrates how, at
the request of two savages, he stopped by prayer a coming
storm, which threatened to hinder their fishing; and that
"the savage, Parwaa, said — 'Now I see that thou hast
spoken with thy God :' " heathen and Christian being thus
perfectly at one in their interpretation.

The only difference of moment is the extent to which the
supernatural agent who produces the miraculous effect at
the instigation of the medicine-man, rain-maker, prophet, or
priest, has diverged in ascribed nature from the primitive
ancestral ghost

248 . THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY

§ 135. And now we approach another order of phenomena
which has been evolving simultaneously with the orders
described in this chapter and the one preceding it

The primitive belief is that the ghosts of the dead, enter-
ing the bodies of the living, produce convulsive actions,
insanity, disease, and death; and as this belief develops,
these original supernatural agents conceived as causing such
evils, differentiate into supernatural agents of various kinds
and powers. Above, we have contemplated certain sequences
of this theory of possession. Along with a belief in malefi-
cent possession there goes a belief in beneficent possession ;
which is prayed for under the forms of supernatural strength,
inspiration, or knowledge. Further, from the notion that if
maleficent demons can enter they can be driven out, there
results exorcism, . And then there comes the idea that they
may be otherwise controlled — may be called to aid: whence
enchantments and miracles.

But if ghosts of the dead, or derived supernatural agents
otherwise classed, can thus inflict evils on men when at
enmity with them, or, when amicable, can give them help
and protection, will it not be wise so to behave as to gain
their good-will ? This is evidently one of several policies
that may be adopted. Supposed as these souls or spirits
originally are, to be like living men in their perceptions and
intelligence, they may be evaded and deceived. Or, as in the
procedures above described, they may be driven away and
defied. Or, contrariwise, there may be pursued the course of
pacifying them if angry, and pleasing them if friendly.

This last course, which originates religious observances in
general, we have now to consider. We shall find that the
group of ideas and practices constituting a cult, has the same
root with the groups of ideas and practices already described,
and gradually diverges from them.

CHAPTER XIX.

8ACBED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; SACRIFICE, FASTING,
AND PROPITIATION; PRAISE, PRATER, ETC.

§ 136. The inscriptions on grave-stones commonly begin
with the words — " Sacred to the memory of." The sacred-
ness thus ascribed to the tomb, extends to whatever is, or has
been, closely associated with the dead. The bedroom con-
taining the corpse is entered, with noiseless steps ; words are
uttered in low tones ; and by the subdued manner is shown a
feeling which, however variable in other elements, always in-
cludes the element of awe..

This sentiment excited in us by the dead, by the place of
the dead, and by the immediate belongings of the dead,
wlrile doubtless partly unlike that of the primitive man, is in
essence like it When we read of savages in general, as of the
Dakotahs, that " they stand in great awe of the spirits of the
dead," and that many tribes, like the Hottentots, " leave the
huts they died in standing," with their contents untouched ;
we are shown that fear is a chief component of the sentiment.
Shrinking from the chamber of death, often shown among
ourselves, like aversion to going through a churchyard at
night, arises partly from a vague dread. Common to un-
civilized and civilized, this feeling colours all the ideas which
the dead arouse.

Parallelisms apart, we have abundant proof that the place
where the dead are, awakens in savages an emotion of fear;
is approached with hesitating steps ; and acquires the charac-

250 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

ter of sanctity. In the Tonga Islands, the cemeteries con-
taining the greatest chiefs are considered sacred. When a
New Zealand chief is buried in a village, the whole village
becomes tapu : no one, on pain of death, being permitted to
go near it The Tahitians never repair or live in the house of
one who has died : that, and everything belonging to him, is
tabooed Food for the departed is left by New Zealanders in
" sacred calabashes ;" in Aneiteum, the groves in which they
leave offerings of food for their dead ancestors, are " sacred
groves ;" and by Ashantis, the town of Bantama " is regarded
as sacred because it contains the fetish-house, which is the
mausoleum of the kings of AshantL"

The fact which here concerns us is, that this awe excited
by the dead grows into a sentiment like that excited by the
places and things used for religious purposes. The kinship
is forced on our attention when Cook tells us of the Sand-
wich Islanders, that the morai seems to be their pantheon as
well as their burial-place ; and that the m&rais or burying-
grounds of the Tahitians are also places of worship. But we
shall see this relationship most clearly on tracing the genesis
of temples and altars.

§ 137. By the cave-inhabiting Veddahs, until recently, the
dead man was left where he died: the survivors sought
some other cave, leaving that in which the death occurred to
the Bpirit of the deceased. As already shown in connexion
with another belief, the Bongo people could not be got to
enter a certain cave which they said was haunted by the
spirits of fugitives who had died in it. Further south " no
one dared to enter the Lohaheng, or cave, for it was the
common belief that it was the habitation of the Deity." And
in the Izdubar legends, Heabani, represented as living in a
cave, is said, at death, to be taken by his " mother earth/'
and his ghost is raised out of the earth. On being thus
reminded that primitive men lived in caves and interred their
dead in them ; on adding that when they ceased to use caves

SACRED PLACES, TEMrLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 251

as dwellings they continued to use them as cemeteries; and
on remembering, further, the general custom of carrying
offerings to the places where the departed lie ; we see how
there arises the sacred cave or cave-temple. That

the cave-temples of Egypt thus originated is tolerably clear.
In various parts of the world natural caverns are found with
rude frescoes daubed on their sides; and these artificial
caverns in which some Egyptian kings were buried, had their
long passages and sepulchral chambers covered with paint-
ings. If we assume that to the preserved bodies of these
kings, as to those of Egyptians generally, offerings were
made ; we must infer that the sacred burial-cave had become
a cave-temple. And on learning that elsewhere in Egypt
there are cave-temples of a more developed kind that were
not sepulchral, we may properly regard these as derivative ;
for it is not to be supposed that men begun cutting their
places of worship out of the solid rock, without having a
preceding habit to prompt them.

For another class of temples we have another origin caused
by another mode of burial. The Araw&ks place the corpse in
a " small corial (boat) and bury it in the hut." By the
Guiana tribes, " a hole is dug in the hut and there the body
is laid." Among the Creeks, the habitation of the dead
becomes his place of interment. Similarly in Africa. By
the Fantees " die dead person is buried in his own house ;"
the Dahomans bury in the deceased's " own house or in the
abode of certain ancestors ;" and there is house-burial among
the Fulahs, the Bagos, and the Gold Coast people. Whether
the house thus used tends to become a temple, depends on
whether it is, or is not, abandoned. In cases like those
cited in § 117, where the survivors continue to inhabit it
after one or more interments, the acquirement of the sacred
character is prevented. When Landa tells us of the Yuca-
tanese, that, ** as a rule, they abandoned the house and left it
uninhabited after the burial, unless there were many people
living in it who overcame the fear of death by company ;" we

252 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

are shown the rise of the sentiment and what results from it
if not checked Hence, when told of the Caribs that, " bury-
ing the corpse in the centre of his own dwelling" [if the
master of the house] the relations " quitted the house alto-
gether, and erected another in a distant situation ;" and when
told of the Brazilian Indians that a dead man " is buried in
the hut which, if he was an adult, is abandoned, and another
built in its stead ;" and when told that " the ancient Peru-
vians frequently buried their dead in their dwellings and
then removed ;" we cannot but see that the abandoned house,
thus left to the ghost of the deceased, becomes a place
regarded with awe. Moreover, as repeated supplies of food
are taken to it; and as along with making offerings there go
other propitiatory acts ; the deserted dwelling-house, turned
into a mortuary-house, acquires the attributes of a temple.

Where house-burial is not practised, the sheltering struc-
ture raised above the grave, or above the stage bearing the
corpse, becomes the germ of the sacred building. By some
of the New Guinea people there is a " roof of atap erected
over " the burial-place. In Cook's time, the Tahitians placed
the body of a dead person upon a kind of bier supported
by sticks and under a roof. So, too, in Sumatra, where " a
shed is built over" the grave; and so, too, in Tonga. Of
course this shed admits of enlargement and finish. The
Dyaks in some places build mausoleums like houses, 18 ft
high, ornamentally carved, containing the goods of the de-
parted— sword, shield, paddle, etc. When we read that the
Fijians deposit the bodies of their chiefs in small mbures or
temples, we may fairly conclude that these so-called temples
are simply more-developed sheltering structures. Describing
the funeral rites of a Tahitian chief, placed under a pro-
tective shed, Ellis says the corpse was clothed " and placed
in a sitting posture; a small altar was erected before it,
and offerings of fruit, food, and flowers, daily presented by
the relatives, or the priest appointed to attend the body."
Here the shed has become a place of worship. Still more

SACRED PIECES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 253

clearly did the customs of the Peruvians show that the
structure erected over the dead body develops into a
temple. Acosta tells us that "every one of these kings
Tncas left all his treasure and revenues to entertaine the
place of worshippe where his body was layed, and there
were many ministers with all his familie dedicated to his
service."

Nor is it among inferior races alone that we trace this
genesis of the temple out of the specially-provided house
for the dead. That which early Spanish travellers tell us
about the Peruvians, ancient Greek travellers tell us about
the Egyptians. Just as Cieza remarks "how little [the
Collas] cared for having large and handsome houses for the
living, while they bestowed so much care on the tombs
where the dead were interred ;" so Diodorus, giving a reason
for the meanness of the Egyptians' dwellings as contrasted
with the splendour of their tombs, says — " they termed the
houses of the living inns, because they stay in them but a
little while, but the sepulchres of the dead they call ever*
lasting habitations." As these Egyptian tombs, like their
houses in type though so superior in quality, were places in
which offerings to the dead were made, they were essentially
temples. Indeed, as it is doubtful whether that most ancient
underground structure close to the great pyramid, is a tomb
or a temple — as the Serapeum (also underground) where the
god Osiris-Apis was buried after each incarnation, "re-
sembled in appearance the other Egyptian temples, even
those which were not of a funereal character;" we have
reason for thinking that in earlier Egyptian times the temple,
as distinguished from the tomb, did not exist Not un-
frequently in the East, these mortuary structures united the
characters of the cave-temple and the dwelling-house temple.
As at Petra, as at Cyrene, so in Etruria, the tombs were
arranged along a cliff " like houses in a street " and " were
severally an imitation of a dwelling-chamber :" to which add
that the Etruscans had also underground temples like under-

254 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

ground burial places, which were like primitive underground
houses. A temple at Mahavellipore in Dravidian style,
suggests that in India the rock-temple was originally a
tomb : there is a reclining (? dead) figure being worshipped
The tomb of Darius, too, cut in the rock, a is an exact repro*
duction " of his palace on the same scale. I may end with
the remark of Mr. Fergusson, who, writing of the Chaldean
temples, and indicating the likeness of the tomb of Gyrus to
a temple, says " the most celebrated example of this form is
as often called [by ancient writers] the tomb as the temple of
Belus, and among a Turanian people the tomb and the temple
may be considered as one and the same thing."

Later times have seen manifest tendencies to such a
genesis of the temple, de novo. In the oases of the Sahara;
are chapels built over the remains of marabouts, or Maho-
metan saints ; and to these chapels the pious make pilgrim*
ages and take offerings. Obviously, too, a chapel covering
the tomb of a saint within a Roman Catholic cathedral, is
a small temple within a large one. And every detached
mausoleum containing the bones of a distinguished man, is
visited with feelings akin to the religious, and is. an incipient
place of worship.

§ 138. When, from tracing the origin of the sacred
chamber, be it cave, or deserted house, or special mortuary*
house, or temple, we proceed to trace the origin of the
sacred structure within it — the altar — we come first to
something intermediate. In India there are highly-developed
sacred structures uniting the attributes of the two.
* The grave-heap growing into the tumulus, which in-
creases in size with the dignity of the deceased, sometimes
develops from a mound of earth into a mound partly of
stones and partly of earth, or otherwise wholly of stones, and
finally into a stone structure, still solid like a mound, and
still somewhat mound-shaped, but highly elaborated archi-
tecturally. Instead of a sacred edifice evolved from the] I

8ACRED PLACES* TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC 235

sepulchral chamber, we have,. in the Indian Tope, a sacred
edifice evolved from the grave-heap itself. "The Tope is
the lineal and direct descendant of the funereal tumulus,"
says Mr. Fergusson ; or, as defined by Gen. Cunningham in
his elaborate work, it is "a regularly-built cairn," as its
name implies. Of these Indian Topes, some contain relics
of Saky4-muni; and others contain relics of his principal
disciples, priests, and saints : relics only, because in the case
of Sakyd-muni, parts of his remains were carried to different
places, and because, in the other cades, burning of the dead
having been adopted by the Indian Buddhists, the tomb
became not the receptacle of a body but of a remnant As
nearly as this change of practice permits, therefore, the Tope is
a tomb ; and the prayers offered at Topes, the processions made
round them, and the adorations paid to them (as shown in
die sculptures on their own surfaces), prove that they are
simply solid temples instead of hollow temples. Further
evidence of this remains : the name given to certain of them,
Chaityay means, in Sanskrit, " an altax, a temple, as well aa
any monument raised on the site of a funeral pile."

Betorning to the grave-heap in its original form, we have
first to recall the fact (§ 85) that among savages who bury,
and who take supplies of food to the dead, the grave-heap is
thereby made a heap on which offerings are placed. Here of
earth or turf, there partly of stones, elsewhere of stones,
entirely, it has the same relation to offerings for the dead
that an altar has to offerings for a deity.

Where corpses are supported on platforms, which also
bear the refreshments provided, these platforms become
practically altars; and we have evidence that in some cases
the altars used in the worship of deities are derived from
them. In Tahiti, when Cook was there, the altars on which.
the natives placed their offerings to the gods were similar to-
the biers on which they placed their dead ; both were small-
stages, raised on wooden pillars, from five to seven feet high.
A like structure was used in the Sandwich Islands to sup-:

r*

V

256 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

port thd provisions taken to the grave of one of Cook's
sailors. Elsewhere, neither the grave-heap simply nor the
raised stage, plays the part of a stand for offerings. Ximenez
tells us of the Central Americans that "if, after the slaves
had been laid in the sepulchre beside their master, any space
was left, they filled it up with earth, and levelled it. They
afterwards erected an altar upon the grave, a cubit high, of
lime and rock, on which generally much incense was burnt,
and sacrifices offered" And then, among peoples who en-
large the grave-heap, this structure carrying food and drink
is placed close to it \ as even now before the vast tumulus of
a Chinese Emperor.

Among ancient orientals the altar had a like origin. A
ceremony at one of the Egyptian festivals was crowning the
tomb of Osiris with flowers ; and in like manner they placed
garlands on the sarcophagi of dead persons. On altars " out-
side the doors of the catacombs at Thebes " " are carved in
bas-relief the various offerings they bore, which are the same
as those represented in the paintings of tombs :" an illustra-
tion showing us that where it became a support for offerings,
placed in front of the dead, the altar still bore traces of
having originally been the receptacle for the dead. One
more case. Though, along with their advance from the earliest
pastoral state, the Hebrews probably diverged somewhat
from their original observances of burial and sacrifice, their
primitive altars as described, suggest the origin here alleged.
They were either of turf, and in so far like a grave-heap,
or they were of undressed stones, and in so far also like a
grave-heap. Bearing in mind that, as illustrated in the use
of the flint-knife for circumcision, religious usages are those
which remain longest unchanged, we may suspect the cause
of the restriction to undressed stones for building an altar,
was that the use of them had persisted from the time
when they formed the primitive cairn. It is true that the
earliest Hebrew legends imply cave-burials, and that later
burials were in artificial caves or sepulchres; but pastoral I

SACRED PLAGES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 257

tribes, wandering over wide plains, could not constantly have
buried thus. The common mode was probably that still
practised by such wild Semites as the Bedouins, whose dead
have "stones piled over the grave," and who " make sacrifices
in which sheep or camels are devoutly slaughtered at the
tombs of their dead kinsmen:" the piled stones being thus
clearly made into an altar.

The usages of European races also yield evidence of this
derivation. Here, partly from Blunt's Dictionary of Theology,
and partly from other sources, are some of the proofs. The
most ancient altar known is " a hollow chest, on the lid or
mensa of which the Eucharist was celebrated." This form
was associated with " the early Christian custom of placing
the relics of martyred saints " under altars ; and it is still a
standing rule in the Catholic Church to enclose the relics of
a saint in an altar. " Stone was ordered by councils of the
fourth century, from an association of the altar with the
sepulchre of Christ." Moreover, "the primitive Christians
chiefly held their meetings at the tombs of the martyrs,
and celebrated the mysteries of religion upon them." And
to Mr. Fergusson's statement, that in the middle ages "the
stone coffin became an altar," may be joined the fact that
our churches still contain " altar-tombs."

Thus what we are clearly shown by the practices of the
uncivilized, is indicated also by the practices of the civilized.
The original altar is that which supports offerings to the
dead; and hence its various forms — a heap of turf, a pile
of stones, a raised stage, a stone coffin.

§ 139. Altars imply sacrifices ; and we pass naturally from
the genesis of the one to the genesis of the other.

Already in § 84 I have exemplified at length the custom
of providing the deceased with food; and I might, space
permitting, double the number of examples. I might, too,
dwell on the various motives avowed by various peoples —
by the Lower Calif ornians, among whom "the priest demands

s

258 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

provisions for the spirit's journey ;" by the Coras of Mexico,
who, after a man's death, "placed some meat upon sticks
about the fields, for fear he might come for the cattle he
formerly owned;" by the Damaras, who, bringing food
to the grave of a relation, request "him to eat and make
merry," and in return ''invoke his blessing" and aid. A
truth also before illustrated (§ 85), but which, as bearing
directly on the argument, it will be well to re-illustrate
here, is that these offerings are repeated at intervals: in
some places for a short time ; in other places for a long time.
Of the Vancouver-Island people we are told that " for some
days after the death relatives burn salmon or venison
before the tomb;" and among the Mosquito Indians, "the
widow was bound to supply the grave of her husband
with provisions for a year." When, with practices of this
kind, we join such practices as those of the Karen, who
thinks himself surrounded by the spirits of the departed
dead, "whom he has to appease by varied and unceasing
offerings;" we cannot fail to recognize the transition from
funeral gifts to religious sacrifices.

The kinship becomes further manifest on observing that
in both cases there are, besides offerings of the ordinary
kind, festival offerings. The Karens just named as habitually
making oblations, have also annual feasts for the dead, at
which they ask the spirits to eat and drink. Of the Bodo
and Dhimals Hodgson tells us that " at harvest home, they
offer fruits and a fowl to deceased parents." Such yearly
sacrifices, occurring in November among the natives of the
Mexican Valley, who then lay live animals, edibles, and
flowers on the graves of their dead relatives and friends,
and occurring in August among the Pueblos, who then place
corn, bread, meat, etc., in the * haunts frequented by the
dead," have prevailed widely: the modern Chinese still
exemplifying them, as they were exemplified by the ancient
Peruvians and Aztecs.

Moreover there are offerings on occasions specially sug-

SACRED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 259

gesting them. " When passing a burial-ground they [the Sea
Dyaks] throw on it something they consider acceptable to
the departed ;" and a Hottentot makes a gift on passing a
burial-place, and asks for ghostly guardianship. In Samoa,
where the spirits of the dead are supposed to roam the bush,
" people in going far inland to work, would scatter food here
and there as a peace-offering to them, and utter a word or
two of prayer for protection." Development of funeral
offerings into habitual sacrifices is carried a stage further in
the practice of reserving for the dead a port of each meal.
In Fiji " often when the natives eat or drink anything, they
throw portions of it away, stating them to be for their
departed ancestors." Always when liquor is given the Bhils,
they pour a libation on the ground before drinking any ; and
as their forefathers are their gods, the meaning of this
practice is unmistakable. So, too, the Araucanians spill a
little of their drink, and scatter a little of their food, before
eating and drinking; and the Yirzimbers of Madagascar,
when they sit down to meals, " take a bit of meat and throw
it over their heads, saying — ' There's a bit for the spirit* "
Ancient historic races had like ways.

The motives for these offerings are often avowed. We read
in Livingstone that a Berotse having a headache said—" ' My
father is scolding me because I do not give him any of the
food I eat* I asked him where his father was. 'Among
the Barimo/ [gods] was the reply." The Kaffirs are de-
scribed as attributing every untoward event to the spirit of a
deceased person, and as " slaughtering a beast to propitiate
its favour." The Amazulu show us the same thing. " There,
then, is your food," they say : " all ye spirits of our tribe,
summon one another. I am not going to say, 'So-and-so,
there is your food/ for you are jealous. But thou, So-and-
so, who art making this man ill, call all the spirits ; come all
of you to eat this food."

So that alike in motive and in method, this offering of
food and drink to the dead man parallels the offering of

s 2

260 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

food and drink to a deity. Observe the points of com-
munity. The giving of portions of meals is com-
mon to the two. In the Sandwich Islands, before the priests
begin a meal, says Cook, they utter a sort of prayer, and then
offer some of the provisions to the deity. As with these
Polynesians, so with the Homeric Greeks : " the share which
is given to the gods of the wine that flows, and the flesh that
smokes on the festal board," corresponds with the share cast
aside by various peoples for the ancestral spirits. The
like is true of the larger oblations on special occasions.
When told that a Kaffir chief kills a bullock, that he may
thereby get help in war from a dead ancestor, we are reminded
that " Agamemnon, king of men, slew a fat bull of five years
to most mighty Kronion." When among the Amazulu, after
" an abundant harvest sometimes the head of the village
dreams that it is said to him — ' How is it, when you have
been given so much food, that you do not give thanks ? ' " and
when he thereupon makes a feast to the Amatongo (ghosts of
the dead), his act differs in no way from that of presenting
first-fruits to deities. And when at another time " he tells
his dream, and says — ' Let a sin-offering be sacrificed, lest
the Itongo be angry and kill us ;' " we are reminded of sin-
offerings made among various peoples to avert divine ven-
geance. There is a no less complete correspond-
ence between the sacrifices made at fixed periods. As above
shown, we find in addition to other feasts to the dead, annual
feasts ; and these answer to the annual festivals in honour
of deities. Moreover, the times are alike fixed by astrono-
mical events. The parallel holds also in respect of
the things offered. In both cases we have oxen, goats, etc. ;
in both cases bread and cakes occur ; in both cases the local
drink is given — wine where it exists, chicha by American
races, beer by various tribes in Africa ; in both cases, too,
we find incense used ; in both cases flowers ; and, in short,
whatever consumable commodities are most valued, down
even to tobacco. As we saw above, an African chief ex-

8ACBED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 261

pected to get aid by emptying his snuff-box to the gods ; and
among the Kaffirs, when the spirits " are invited to eat, beer
and snuff are usually added." Nor is there any difference
in the mode of preparation. Both to spirits and to deities we
find uncooked offerings and also burnt offerings. Yet

another likeness must be named.' Gods are supposed to profit
by the sacrifices as ghosts do, and to be similarly pleased.
As given in the Iliad, Zeus' reason for favouring Troy is that
there " never did mine altar lack the' seemly feast, even
drink-offering and burnt-offering, the worship that is our
due." In the Odyssey, Athene is described as coming in
person to receive the roasted heifer presented to her, and as
rewarding the giver. Lastly,, we have the fact

that in sundry cases the sacrifices to ghosts and gods coexist
in undistinguishable forms. By tKe Sandwich Islanders
provisions are placed before the dead and before images of
the deities. Among the Egyptians " the offerings made to
the dead were similar to the ordinary oblations in honour of
the gods." The mummies were kept in closets, "out of
which they were taken ... to a small altar, before which
the priest officiated;" and on this altar were made"" offerings
of incense and libations, with cakes, flowers, and fruits."

§ 140. Little as we should look for such an« origin, we
meet with evidence that fasting, as a religious rite, is a
sequence of funeral rites. Probably the practice arises in
more ways than one. Involuntary as abstinence from food
often is with the primitive man, and causing as it then does
vivid dreams, it becomes a deliberately-adopted method of
obtaining interviews with the spirits. Among numerous
savage races fasting has now, as it had among the Jews of
Talmudic times, this as one of its motives;. In other cases it
has the allied motive of bringing on that preternatural ex-
citement regarded as inspiration. But. besides fastings thus
originating, there is the fasting which results from making
excessive provision for the dead. By implication this grows

262 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

into an accepted mark of reverence; and finally becomes
a religious act.

In § 103, it was shown how extensive is in many cases the
destruction of property, , of cattle, of food, at the tomb. I
have quoted the statements that, as a consequence, among
the Dyaks burial-rites frequently reduce survivors to poverty;
and that, on the Gold Coast, " a funeral is usually absolute
ruin to a poor family." If, as in some extinct American
societies, everything a man had except his land went into
the grave with him— if on the death of a Toda " his entire
herd" of oxen was sacrificed; the implication is that his
widow and children had to suffer great want. Such want is,
indeed, alleged. We read that '"the Indians of the Rocky
Mountains 'burn with the deceased all his effects, and even
those of his nearest 'relatives, so that it not unfrequently
happens that a family is reduced i to absolute starvation;"
and that in Africa, among the Bagos, "the family of the
deceased, who are ruined by this act of superstition [burning
his property, including stores, of .food], are supported through
the next harvest by the inhabitants of the village." Now
when along with these facts, obviously related as cause and
consequence, we join the fact 'that the Gold Coast people, to
their other mourning observances, add fasting; as well as the
fact that among the Dahomans "the weeping relatives must
fast ;" we can scarcely avoid the conclusion that what is at first
a natural result of great sacrifice to the dead, becomes even-
tually a usage signifying such sacrifice ; and continues as a
usage when no longer made needful by impoverishment.
We shall see the more reason for concluding this on finding
that fasting was a funeral rite among sundry extinct peoples
whose attentions to the dead were elaborate. The Yuca-
tanese " fasted for the sake of the dead." The like was a
usage with the Egyptians : during the mourning for a king
" a solemn fast was established." Even by the Hebrews fast-
ing was associated with mourning dresses ; and after the burial
of Saul the people of Jabesh-Gilead fasted for seven days.

M

BACKED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 263

This connexion of practices and ideas is strengthened by
a kindred connexion, arising from daily offerings to the
dead. Throwing aside a part of his meal to the ancestral
ghosts, by diminishing the little which the improvident
savage has, often entails hunger; and voluntarily-borne
hunger thus becomes an expression of duty to the dead.
How it passes into an expression of duty to the gods, is well
shown by the Polynesian legend concerning Maui and his
brothers. Having had a great success in fishing, Maui says
to them — "After I am gone, be courageous and patient ; do
not eat food until I return, and do not let our fish be cut up,
but rather leave it until I have carried an offering to the
gods for this great haul of fish. ... I will then return, and
we can cut up this fish in safety." And the story goes on
to describe the catastrophe resulting from the anger of the
gods, because the brothers proceeded to eat before the offering
had been made.

Of course the fasting thus entailed, giving occasions for
self-discipline, comes to be used for self-discipline after the
original purpose is forgotton. There still clings to it, how-
ever, the notion that approval of a supernatural being is
gained ; and the clinging of this notion supports the inference
drawn.

§ 141. From this incidental result, introduced parentheti-
cally, let us return to our study of the way in which the
offerings at burials develop into religious offerings.

We have seen that for the immolation of human victims
at funerals, there are two motives : one of them being the
supply of food for the dead ; and the other being the supply
of attendants for service in the future life. We will glance
at the two in this order. Remembering that a

man's ghost is supposed to retain the likings of the living
man, we shall see that among cannibals the offering of
human flesh to the dead is inevitable* The growth of the
usage is well shown by a passage in Turner's Samoa. He

264 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

says that Sama was " the name of the cannibal god of a
village in Savaii. He was incarnate as a man, who had
human flesh laid before him when he chose to call for it
This man's power extended to several villages, and his
descendants are traced to this day." Again, those ferocious
anthropophagi the Fijians, who have victims buried with
them, and whose apotheosized chiefs join other gods to whom
"human flesh is still the most valued offering;" show us
the entire series of sequences— cannibalism during life, can-
nibal ghosts, cannibal deities, and human sacrifices made as
religious rites. So, too, was it with the ancient Mexicans.
The man-eating habits of their ruling race were accom-
panied by slayings of slaves, etc., at burials, as well as by
slayings of prisoners before their gods; and though the
immolations at graves were not, during their later times,
avowedly food-offerings, yet we may suspect that they were
so in earlier times, on seeing how literally a victim im-
molated to the god was made a food-offering — the heart
being torn out, put into the mouth of the idol, and its lips
anointed with the blood. When, too, we read that the
Chibchas offered men to the Spaniards as food ; and when
Acosta, remarking that the Chibchas were not cannibals,
asks " can they have believed that the Spaniards, as sons of
the Sun (as they were styled by them), must take delight in
the barbarous holocausts they offered to that star ?" we may
suspect that their immolations at funerals, like their immola-
tions to the Sun, were the remains of an extinct cannibalism.
Having before us such facts as that some Khonds believe
the god eats the person killed for him ; that the Tahitians,
thinking their gods fed on the spirits of the dead, provided
them with such spirits by frequent slaughterings ; and that
the Tongans made offerings of children to their gods, who
were deified chiefs ; we cannot doubt that human sacrifices
at graves had originally the purpose of supplying human
flesh, along with other food, for the soul of the deceased ;
and that the slaughter of victims as a religious rite was

SACRED PLACES, TEMPLES, AKD ALTARS ; ETC. 2G5

a sequence. The like holds of slaying men as

attendants. We have seen (§ 104) how common, in un-
civilized and semi-civilized societies, is the killing of pri-
soners, slaves, wives, friends, to follow the departed; and
in some cases there is a repetition of the observance. By
the Mexicans additional slaves were slain on the fifth day
after the burial, on the twentieth, on the fortieth, on the
sixtieth, and on the eightieth days. In Dahomey there are
frequent beheadings that the victims, going to the other
world to serve the dead king, may carry messages from his
living descendant. Human sacrifices thus repeated to pro-
pitiate the ghosts of the dead, evidently pass without break
into the periodic human sacrifices which have commonly been
elements in primitive religions.

In § 89 were brought together, from peoples in all parts
of the world, examples of blood -offerings to the dead.
Meaningless as such offerings otherwise are, they have
meanings when made by primitive cannibals. That any men,
in common with most ferocious brutes, should delight in
drinking blood— especially the blood of their own species-
is almost incredible to us. But on reading that in Australia
human flesh "is eaten raw" by "the blood-revengers;"
that the Fijian chief Tanoa, cut off a cousin's arm, drank
the blood, cooked the arm, and ate it in presence of the
owner ; and that the cannibal Yateans will exhume, cook, and
eat, bodies that have been buried even more than three days ;
that among the H&idahs of the Pacific1. States, the taamish,
or inspired medicine-man, "springs on the first person he
meets, bites out and swallows one or more mouthfuls of the
man's living flesh wherever he can fix his teeth, then rushes
to another and another;" and that among the neighbouring
Nootkas the medicine-man, instead of doing this, "is satisfied
with what his teeth can tear from the corpses in the burial-
places;" we see that horrors beyond our imaginations of
possibility are committed by primitive men, and, among
them, the drinking of warm human blood. We may infer,

266 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

indeed, that the vampire-legends of European folk-lore,
grew out of such facts concerning primitive cannibals:
the original vampire being the supposed other-self of a
ferocious . savage, still seeking to satisfy his blood-sucking
propensities. And we shall not doubt that those blood-
offerings to the dead described in § 89, were originally, as
they are now in Dahomey, " drink for the deceased." Indeed,
as there is no greater difference between drinking animal
blood and drinking human blood, than there is between eating
animal flesh and eating human flesh, hesitation disappears
on reading that even now, the Samoiedes delight in the
warm blood of animals, and on remembering that Ulysses
describes the ghosts in the Greek Hades as flocking to
drink the sacrificial blood he provides for them, and as being
refreshed by it. If, then, blood shed at a funeral

was at first meant for the refreshment of the ghost — if
when shed on subsequent occasions, as by the sanguinary
Dahomans to get the aid of a dead king's ghost in war,
it became a blood-offering to a supernatural being for special
propitiation; we can scarcely doubt that the offering of
human blood to a deity with a like motive, is but a further
development of the practice. The case of the Mexicans
is typical. Their ruling races descended from conquering
cannibals; they had cannibal-gods, whose idols were fed
with human hearts ; the priests, when there had not been
recent sacrifices, reminded the kings that the idols "were
starving with hunger;" war was made, to take prisoners,
"because their gods demanded something to eat;" and
thousands were for this reason sacrificed annually. When
we add the facts that the blood of victims was separately
offered; that "the Indians gave the idols, to drink, their
own blood, drawn from their ears;" "that the priests and
dignified persons also drew blood from their legs, and daubed
their temples ; " and that " the effusion of blood was frequent
and daily with some of the priests ; " we shall see an obvious
filiation. Even the records of ancient Eastern

SACRED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 267

nations describe blood-offerings as parts of the two sets
of rites. That self-bleeding at funerals occurred among the
Hebrews, is implied by the passage in Deuteronomy which
forbids them to cut themselves for the dead. And that
self-bleeding was a religious ceremony among their neigh-
bours, there is direct proof. In propitiation of their god the
prophets of Baal cut themselves " till the blood gushed out
upon them."

The only question is how far this kind of offering has
passed into the kind we have now to glance at — the sacri-
ficing a part of the body as a mark of subordination. In § 89
were given many cases of mutilation as a funeral rite, and
many more might be added. Among the Nateotetains of
North America, a woman " cuts off one joint of a finger upon
the death of a near relative. In consequence of this practice,
some old women may be seen with two joints off every finger
on both hands." On the death of a Salish chief, it is the
custom for the bravest woman and the man who is to be the
succeeding chief, to cut off portions of one another's flesh,
and throw them into the fire along with meat and a root.
Paralleling these funeral mutilations, we elsewhere in
America find mutilations as religious observances. Some
Mexicans practised circumcision (or something like it), and
self-injuries much more serious than circumcision, in pro-
pitiation of their deities. The Guancavilcas, a Peruvian
people, pulled out three teeth from each jaw of their young
children, whi$h they thought " very acceptable to their gods f
while, as we before saw, knocking out one of the front teeth
is a rite at the funeral of a chief in the Sandwich Islands.

Proofs that at funerals the cutting-off of hair is usual
among savages have been given in abundance ; and it occurs
also as a religious sacrifice. In the Sandwich Islands, on the
occasion of the volcanic eruption of 1803, when, to appease
the gods, many offerings were made in vain, we are told that
at length the king Tamehameha cut off part of his own hair,
which was considered sacred, and threw it into the torrent,

268 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

as the most valuable offering. By the Peruvians, too, hair
was given as an act of worship. "In making an offering
they pulled a hair out of their eyebrows/' says Garcilasso ;
and Arriaga and Jos. de Acosta similarly describe the pre-
sentation of eyelashes or eyebrows to the deities. In ancient
Central America part of the marriage ceremony was a sacri-
fice of hair. Even among the Greeks there was a kindred
observance : on a marriage the bride sacrificed a lock of her
hair to Aphrodite.

Alike, then, in the immolation of human victims, in the
offering of blood that flows from the living as well as the
dying, in the offering of portions of the body, and even in
the offering of hair, we see that funeral rites are paralleled
by religious rites.

§ 142. Is there no further way in which the goodwill of
these invisible beings may be secured ? If savages in general
think, as the Aleutian Islanders do, that the shades of the
departed must be propitiated "as being able to give good
and evil," will they not ask this question and find an affirma-
tive answer? When alive their relatives were pleased by
applause; and now that, though invisible, they are often
within hearing, praise will still be pleasing to them. Hence
another group of observances.

Bancroft quotes from an eye-witness the account of a
funeral in which an American Indian, carrying on his back
the corpse of his wife to the burial cave, eyries his sense
of loss by chanting her various virtues, and is followed by
others of the tribe repeating his utterances. This practice,
which is in large measure the natural expression of bereave-
ment, is a prevalent practice into which there enters also the
idea of propitiation. By the Tupis, at a funeral feast,
" songs were sung in praise of the dead." Among the Lower
Californians, one of the honours paid to the departed is that
" a quama, or priest, sings his praises ;" and the Chippewas
make praises permanent by placing at a man's grave a post

SACRED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 260

bearing " devices denoting the number of times he has been
in battle, and the number of scalps he has taken." By par-
tially-civilized American peoples, funeral laudations were
much more elaborated. In San Salvador " they chanted the
lineage and deeds of the dead" for four days and nights; the
Chibchas "sang dirges and the great achievements of the
deceased;" and during ancient Peruvian obsequies, they
traversed the village, " declaring in their songs the deeds of
the dead chief." Like observances occur in Polynesia. On
the occasion of a death in Tahiti, there are " elegiac ballads,
prepared by the bards, and recited for the consolation of the
family." We trace the same practice in Africa. The Man-
dingoes, at a burial, deliver a eulogium on the departed ; and
by the ancient Egyptians, the like usage was developed in a
degree proportionate to the elaboration of their social life.
Not only did they sing commemorative hymns when a king
died, but kindred praises were general at deaths. There were
hired mourners to enumerate the deceased's virtues; and
when a man of rank was deposited in his tomb, the priest
read from a papyrus an account of his good deeds, and
the multitude joined in praising him — uttered something
like responses.

Frequently eulogies do not end with the funeral The
Brazilian Indians, " sing in honour of their dead as often as
they pass near their graves." We read in Bancroft that " for
a long time after a death, relatives repair daily at sunrise and
sunset to the vicinity of the grave to sing songs of mourning
and praise." In Peru, for a month after death, " they loudly
shouted out the deeds of the late Ynca in war, and the good
he had done to the provinces. . . . After the first month they
did the same every fortnight, at each phase of the moon, and
this went on the whole year." Moreover, " bards and min-
strels were appointed to chronicle his achievements, and their
songs continued to be rehearsed at high festivals."

The motive parallels the religious motive. By the Amazulu
these praises of the dead are repeated for the avowed purpose

270 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

of gaining favours or escaping punishments. Answering the
reproaches of his brother's angry ghost, a Zulu says — " I do
call on you, and laud you by your laud-giving names/' Again,
"if there is illness in the village, the eldest son lauds him
[the father] with the laud-giving names which he gained
when fighting with the enemy, and at the same time lauds
all the other Amatongo" [ancestral ghosts]. Further, we
have proof that in their desire for praise, these ancestral
ghosts are jealous ghosts. When by a diviner, it has been
determined which ancestral ghost has inflicted disease, this -
ghost is singled out for eulogy. Here is the statement of a
Zulu named Umpengula Mbanda : —

" Therefore he is called upon first, and it is said, * So-and-so, son of
So-and-so,' he being lauded by his land-giving names ; then they pro-
ceed to his father, and he too is mentioned in connexion with the
disease ; and so in time they come to the last ; and so there is an end,
when it is said, ( Ye people of Gwala, who did so-and-so/ (his great
deeds being mentioned), 'come all of you.' "

So that, beginning with eulogy of the dead as a funeral
rite, passing to praises repeated for a time, then to praises
both occasional and periodic that are established, we rise to
the characteristics of religious praises. Moreover, the two
are alike in the ascribed demand for them by supernatural
beings ; in the nature of them as narrating great deeds ; and
in the motive for them as a means of obtaining benefits or
avoiding evils.

§ 143. Yet another parallelism. Along with praises of the

dead there go prayers to them. The Bambiri " pray to

departed chiefs and relatives ; " and in Equatorial Africa, in

times of distress the people go to the forest and cry to the

spirits of those who have passed away. The Amazulu join

prayers with their sacrifices. One of Callaway's informants

says : —

" The owner of the bullock having prayed to the Amatongo, saying
' There is your bullock, ye spirits of our people ;' and as he prays _

naming grandfathers and grandmothers who are dead, saying, 'There

SACRED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 271

is your food ; I pray for a healthy body, that I may live comfortably ;
and thou, So-and-so, treat me with mercy ; and thou, So-and-so,
mentioning by name all of their family who are dead."

The Veddahs, again, think themselves guarded by the spirits
of "their ancestors and their children;" and "in every
calamity, in every want, they call on them for aid." They
" call on their deceased ancestors by name. ' Come, and par-
take of this ! Give us maintenance, as you did when living I ' "
A Dakotah, when going hunting, utters the prayer — " Spirits
or ghosts, have mercy on me, and show me where I can find
a deer." By the Banks' Islanders, " prayers, as a rule, are
made to dead men and not to spirits." Turner, describing the
Vateans, who " worship the spirits of their ancestors," says
•* they pray to them over the kava-bowl, for health and pros-
perity ; " and, describing the adjacent Tannese, he says that,
sacrificing first-fruits to their dead and deified chiefs, the
living chief prays aloud thus — " Compassionate father, here is
some food for you ; eat it ; be kind to us on account of it."

Only in the supposed origin or nature of the super-
natural being prayed to, do prayers like these differ from
the prayers of more civilized races to their divinities. In
the Iliad, Chryses, Apollo's priest, is represented as saying —
" O Smintheus ! if ever I built a temple gracious in thine
eyes, or if ever I burnt to thee fat flesh of thighs of bulls or
goats, fulfil now this my desire; let the Danauns pay by
their arrows for my tears." So, too, Barneses, calling on
Amnion for aid in battle, reminds him of the 30,000 bulls he
has sacrificed to him.* Between the Trojan or Egyptian, and

• Why such vast numbers of animals were slaughtered, is a question to
which no answer seems forthcoming. Since the first edition of this work,
however, I have come upon a clue. In the Rig Veda " there is a passage in
which Vishnu is described as carrying away the broth made of a hundred
buffaloes and a hog. Elsewhere it is said (vi, 17, 11) ' For thee, Indra, whom
all the Maruta in concert magnified, Fushan and Vishnu cooked a hundred
buffaloes.' " Now observe the meaning of this. The Mahabharata " de.
scribes a king named JKantidera, who used to slaughter daily two thousand
head of cattle besides as many other animals, for use in his kitchen " to
support his retinue and dependants.

272 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

the Zulu or New Caledonian, there is no difference in feeling
or idea.

Of course, along with mental evolution there go modifica-
tions in the prayers, as in the conceptions associated with
them. The Hebrew prophets, who in later times represent
the Hebrew God as not delighting in the odour of offerings,
have evidently advanced far enough to abandon that gross
kind of religious bribery which asks material benefits pro-
portionate to material sacrifices ; though it is manifest from
the denunciations these prophets uttered, that the Hebrew
people at large had not dropped the primitive beliefs and
practices. But while the notion of the partially civilized is
not the same in form as the notion of the uncivilized, it is
the same in essence. The mediaeval knight who, praying
for aid to the Virgin or to a saint, promises a chapel if he is
delivered, adopts the same policy as does the savage who
bargains with the ancestral ghost to exchange protection for
provision.

§ 144. There are sundry other parallelisms which I can-
not spare space to exhibit in full. A paragraph only can be
devoted to each.

The East Africans believe " the spirits of the departed
know what those they have left behind them are doing, and
are pleased or not, according as their deeds are good or evil ;"
and during a death-lament the North American Indians ad-
dress the spirit of the departed, promising to behave well
Here reprobation of the ancestral ghost is feared, just as
among civilized races, divine reprobation is feared ; and ap-
proval is sought with kindred motives.

There is evidence, too, of repentance caused by supposed
ghostly reprobation. Of the Turkomans, VamWry tells us
that " no greater punishment can befall a living man, than to
be accused before the shade of his departed father or an-
cestor. This is done by planting a lance upon the top of
the grave. ... No sooner did Oraz perceive the lance fixed

BACHED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 273

upon the high Yoska of his grandfather, when in the silence
of the following night he led the horse back to the tent of
the Mollah and tied it to its former place. This act of resti-
tution, as he himself told me, will pain him for a long time
to come. Bat it is better to lie in the black earth than to
have disturbed the repose of one's ancestors."

Among the Iroquois " a prominent part of the ceremonial
[mourning for Sachems] consisted in the repetition of their
ancient laws." In this we trace an analogy to the repetition
of divine injunctions as a religious observance.

Lighting a fire at the grave for the benefit of the deceased,
we found to be a not infrequent funeral rite ; and in some
cases the fire was kept alight, or re-lighted, for a long period.
On adding the facts that lamps were kept burning in Egyp-
tian tombs, as also in the sepulchres of the Romans, we see
that maintenance of a sacred fire in a temple again exempli-
fies the development of funeral rites into religious rites.

Expressions of grief naturally characterize funerals, and
grow into funeral rites: sometimes, in advanced societies,
being swollen by the cries of hired mourners. It was thus
with the ancient Egyptians ; and with the ancient Egyptians
wailing was also a religious rite. Once a year, they offered
first-fruits on the altar of Isis with " doleful lamentations."
During an annual festival at Busiris, which was the alleged
burial-place of Osiris, the votaries having fasted and put on
mourning dresses, uttered a lament round a burnt-offering :
the death of Osiris being the subject of the lament. Ad-
herents to the theory of nature-myths of course find a
symbolic meaning for this observance ; but to others it will
appear significant that this further likeness between funeral
rites and religious rites, occurred among people who sacrificed
so elaborately to their ordinary dead, and who were charac-
terized by the unparalleled persistence of their customs.

Along with dislike to tell his name, which the savage
thinks will put him in the power of one who learns it, there
goes dislike to name the dead : the exercise of the implied

T

274 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

power over them, being supposed to excite their anger. So
strong is this feeling among the Malagasy, that " they account
it a crime to mention them [the dead] by the names they
had when living." Similarly, among some peoples, the calling
of deities by their true names has been interdicted or con-
sidered improper. The Chinese say " it is not lawful to use
his [the supreme ruler's] name lightly, we name him by his
residence, which is in Tien" [heaven]. Again, Exod. Ill,
13-15, proves that the Hebrew God was not to be referred to
by name. And Herodotus carefully avoids naming Osiris.*

In Kaffir-land the grave of a chief is an asylum ; and in
the Tonga Islands the cemeteries where the great chiefs are
buried, have such sacredness that enemies meeting there
must regard each other as friends. Beecham says that on
the Gold Coast the fetich-house forms a sort of sanctuary to
•run-away slaves. Here we see arising the right of sanctuary,
attaching to the temples of deities among higher peoples.

Speaking of oaths among the Nasamonians, Herodotus says
" the man, as he swears, lays his hand upon the tomb of some
one considered to have been pre-eminently just and good,
and so doing swears by his name.'1 In Sumatra, " the place
of greatest solemnity for administering an oath, is the . . .
burying-ground of their ancestors." In mediaeval Europe
" oaths over the tombs and relics of saints were of frequent
occurrence ;" and a capitulary required them " to be admin*

* Prof. Max Muller thinks (Mibbert Lectures, p. 85) that this statement
trill " surprise " those who remember that Herodotus says the Egyptians
identified Osiris with Dionysus. Now considering that in Bk. II, Oh. 3,
Herodotus premises that certain things " concerning their religion," he witt
repeat " only when compelled to do so;" and considering that in identifying
Osiris with Dionysus he was " compelled " to name both ; this exception
does not, I think, go for much. When I add that in Bk. II, Ch. 61, Hero-
dotus describes the ceremonies at Busiris as being " in honour of a god,
whose name a religious scruple forbids me to mention," and that in Chs. 86,
132, 170, 171, Osiris is in like ways referred to as one not to be named; I
think readers will be " surprised " that Prof. Max Muller should either
have been unaware of these foots, or, being aware of them, should hare re*
f erred to my statement as though it were baseless.

SACRED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 275

ietered in a church and over relics, invoking the name of God,
and those saints whose remains were below." The transition
from the original to the developed form is clear.

Visiting the grave to take food, to repeat praises, to ask
aid, implies a journey ; and this journey, short if the grave is
near, becomes, if the grave is far off, a pilgrimage* That this
is its origin, proof is given by Vamb4ry in describing certain
predatory tribes of Turkomans, who, regarding as a martyr
one of their number who is killed, adorn his grave and
* make pilgrimages to the holy place, where they implore
with tears of contrition the intercession of the canonized
robber." Filial piety, taking a more expanded form as the
ancestral ghost comes to be dominated by the ghost of the
distinguished man, the pilgrimage to a relation's burial-place
passes into the religious pilgrimage. Habitually a grave is
the terminus: the city where Mahomet was buried as well
as that in which he was born; the tomb of Baha-ed-din,
regarded as a second Mahomet ; the tope containing relics of
Buddha; the sepulchre of Christ. Moreover, Chaucer's
poem reminds us that the tombs of saints have been, and
still continue to be on the Continent, the goals of pilgrimages
among Christians.

Yet one more analogy. In some cases parts of the dead
are swallowed by the living, who seek thus to inspire them-
selves with the good qualities of the dead; and we saw
(§ 133) that the dead are supposed to be thereby honoured.
The implied notion was shown to be associated with the
notion that the nature of another being, inhering in all
fragments of his body, inheres, too, in the unoonsumed part
of anything incorporated with his body; and with the further
notion that between those who swallow different parts of the
same food some community of nature is established. Hence
such beliefs as that ascribed by Bastian to certain negroes,
who think that on eating and drinking consecrated food
they eat and drink the god himself — such god being an
ancestor, who has taken his share. Various ceremonies which

T 2

276 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

savages adopt are prompted by this conception; as, for
instance, the choosing a totem. Among the Mosquito In-
dians, "the manner of obtaining this guardian was to
proceed to some secluded spot and offer up a sacrifice : with
he beast or bird which thereupon appeared, in dream or in
reality, a compact for life was made, by drawing blood
from various parts of the body." This blood, supposed to
be taken by the chosen animal, connected the two ; and the
animal's " life became so bound up with their own that the
death of one involved that of the other/** And now mark
that in these same regions this idea originated a religious
observance. Mendieta, describing a ceremony used by the
Aztecs, says — " they had also a sort of communion. . . . They
made a sort of small idols of seeds . . . and ate them as
the body or memory of their gods." As the seeds were
cemented partly by the blood of sacrificed boys; as their
gods were cannibal gods ; as Huitzilopochtli, whose worship
included this rite, was the god to whom human sacrifices
were most extensive ; it is clear that the aim was to establish
community with him by taking blood in common. So that
what, among certain of these allied American races, was a
funeral rite, by which survivors sought to inspire themselves
with the virtues of the dead, and to bind themselves to the
ghost, became, among the more civilized, modified into an
observance implying inspiration by, and fealty to, one of
their deities.

§ 145. Thus, evidence abundant in amount and varied in
kind, justifies the statement made at the close of the last

• We here get a due to the origin of various strange ceremonies by which
men bind themselves to one another. Michelet, in his Origin** dm Droit
Francais (II, 35), writes — " Boire le sang Tun de 1'autre, o'ltait pour ainsi
dire se faire meme chair. Ce symbole si expressif se trouve ohes nn grand
nombre de peuples;" and he gives instances from various ancient races.
But, as we here see, this practice is not originally adopted as a symbol (no
practices begin as symbols), but is prompted by the belief that a community
of nature is thus established, and a community of power over one another.
Obviously the exchange of names between savages results from an allied belief.

BACKED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 277

chapter. It was pointed out that the souls of the dead, con-
ceived by savages sometimes as beneficent agents, but chiefly
as the causers of evils, might be variously dealt with — might
be deceived, resisted, expelled, or might be treated in ways
likely to secure goodwill and mitigate anger. It was
asserted that from this last policy all religious observances
take their rise. We have seen how they d* so.

The original sacred place is the place where the dead
are, and which their ghosts are supposed to frequent ; the
sheltering cave, or house, or other chamber for the dead,
becomes the sacred chamber or temple ; and that on which
offerings for the dead are put becomes the sacred support
for offerings — the altar. Food and drink and other things
laid for the dead, grow into sacrifices and libations to the
gods ; while immolations of victims,, blood-offerings, mutila-
tions, cuttings-off of hair, originally occurring at the grave,
occur afterwards before idols, and as marks of fealty to a
deity. Fasting as a funeral rite, passes into fasting as a
religious rite ; and lamentations, too, occur under both forms.
Praises of the dead, chanted at the burial and afterwards,
and recurring at festivals, pass into praises forming parts
of religious worship ; and prayers made to the dead for aid,
for blessing, for protection, become prayers made to divinities
for like advantages. Ancestral ghosts supposed to cause
diseases, as gods send pestilences, are similarly propitiated
by special sacrifices : the ascribed motives of ghosts and gods
being the same in kind, and the modes of appealing to those
motives the same. The parallelism runs out into various
details. There is oversight of conduct by ghosts as there is
by deities; there are promises of good behaviour to both;
there is penitence before the one as before the other. There
is repetition of injunctions given by the dead, as there is
repetition of divine injunctions. There is a maintenance of
fires at graves and in sepulchral chambers, as there is in
temples. Burial-places are sometimes, like temples, used as
places of refuge. A distinguished dead man is invoked to

278 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

witness an oath, as God is invoked. Secrecy is maintained
respecting the name of the dead, as in some cases respecting
the name of a god. There are pilgrimages to the graves of
relatives and martyrs, as well as pilgrimages to the graves of
supposed divine persons. And in America, certain less*
civilized races adopted a method of binding the living with
the dead by seeking to participate in the qualities of the
ghost, which .a more civilized American race paralleled by a
method of binding to a deity through a kindred ceremony for
establishing communion.

Can so many and such varied similarities have arisen in
the absence of genetic relationship ? Suppose the two sets
of phenomena unconnected— suppose primitive men had, as
some think, the consciousness of a Universal Power whence
they and all other things proceeded. What probability would
there be that to such a Power they would perform an act like
that performed to the dead body of a fellow savage ? And if
one such community would not be probable, what would be
the probability of two such communities T What the pro-
bability of four? What the probability of the score above
specified ? In the absence of causal relation the chances
against such a correspondence would be almost infinity to one.

Again, if the two sets of rites have a common root, we
may see how they come to coexist under forms differing only
in their degrees of elaboration. But otherwise, how does
it happen that in sundry societies the two sets of rites have
been, or are, simultaneously observed in like ways? In
Egypt at funerals, and afterwards in tombs, the dead were
lauded and sacrificed to as their deities were lauded and
sacrificed to. Every day in Mexico there were burial-
oblations of food and drink, slayings of servants, offerings
of flowers, just as there were daily ceremonies of like kinds
before their gods; and images of the dead were preserved
and worshipped as were images of the gods. Peruvians
poured out human blood on sepulchres, and gave it to idols ;
sacrificed victims to the deceased chief and victims to the

SACRED PLACES, TEMPLES, AND ALTARS; ETC. 279

deity; cut off their hair for the dead and presented their
hair to the Sun; praised and prayed to embalmed bodies, as
they praised and prayed to divinities ; and made obeisances
to the one as to the other. If between the father regarded
as ancestor and the father regarded as divinity there is no
connexion, the likenesses between these coexisting obser-
vances are inexplicable.

Nor is this all Were there no such origination of re-
ligious rites out of funeral rites, it would be impossible to
understand the genesis of ceremonies apparently so absurd.
How could men possibly have come to think, as did the
Mexicans, that a stone-bowl full of human blood would
please the Sun ? or that the Sun would be pleased by burn-
ing incense, as the Egyptians thought ? In what imaginable
way were the Peruvians led to believe that the Sun was pro-
pitiated by blowing towards it hairs from their eye-brows ; or
why did they suppose that by doing the like towards the sea
they would mitigate its violence ? From what antecedent did
there result such strange ideas as those of the Santals, who,
worshipping "the Great Mountain," sacrifice to it beasts,
flowers, and fruit ? Or why should the Hebrews think to
please Jahveh by placing on an altar flesh, bread, wine, and
incense ; which were the things placed by the Egyptians on
altars before their mummies? The assumption that men
gratuitously act in irrational ways is inadmissible. But if
these propitiations of deities were developed from propiti-
ations of the dead, their seeming irrationality is accounted for.

We have, then, numerous lines of evidence which, con-
verging to a focus, are by themselves enough to dissipate
any doubt respecting this natural genesis of religious ob-
servances. Traceable as it is in so many ways, the develop-
ment of funeral rites into worship of the dead, and eventually
into worship of deities, becomes clear. We shall find that it
becomes clearer still on contemplating other facts under other
aspects.

CHAPTER XX.

ANCESTOR-WORSHIP IN GENERAL

§ 146. From various parts of the world, witnesses of
different nations and divergent beliefs bring evidence that
there exist men who are either wholly without ideas of
supernatural beings, or whose ideas of them are extremely
vague. " When Father Junipero Serra established the Mission
of Dolores in 1776, the shores of San Francisco Bay were
thickly populated by the Ahwashtees, Ohlones, Altahmos,
Romanons, Tuolomos, and other tribes. The good Father
found the field unoccupied, for, in the vocabulary of these
people, there is found no word for god, angel, or devil ; they
held no theory of origin or destiny." This testimony, which
Bancroft cites respecting the Indians of California, corre-
sponds with the testimonies of old Spanish writers respecting
some South American peoples. Garcilasso says that "the
Chirihuanas and the natives of the Cape de Pasau . . . had
no inclination to worship anything high or low, neither from
interested motives nor from fear;" Balboa mentions tribes
without any religion as having been met with by Ynca
Yupangui ; and Avendafio asserts that in his time the Antis
had no worship whatever. Many kindred instances are given
by Sir John Lubbock, and further ones will be found in
Mr. Tylor's Primitive Culture. But I agree with Mr. Tylor
that the evidence habitually implies some notion, however
wavering and inconsistent, of a reviving other-self. Where

ANCESTOR-WORSHIP IN GENERAL. 281

this has not become a definite belief, the substance of a
belief is shown by the funeral rites and by the fear of the
dead.

Leaving unsettled the question whether there are men in
whom dreams have not generated the notion of a double, and
the sequent notion that at death the double has gone away,
we may hold it as settled that the first traceable conception
of a supernatural being is the conception of a ghost This
exists where no other idea, of the same order exists ; and
this exists where multitudinous other ideas of the same order
exist

That belief in a surviving duplicate is produced among the
savage, and is perpetually reproduced among the civilized, is
a fact of great significance.. Whatever is common to men's
minds in all stages, must be deeper down in thought than
whatever is peculiar to men's minds in higher stages; and
if the later product admits of being reached by modification
and expansion of the earlier product, the implication is that
it has been so reached Recognizing this implication, we
shall see how fully the facts now to be contemplated justify
acceptance of it

§ 147. As the notion of a ghost grows from that first
vagueness and variableness indicated above, into a definite
and avowed idea, there naturally arise the desire and the
endeavour to propitiate the ghost Hence, almost as widely
spread as the belief in ghosts/ may be looked for a more or
less developed ancestor-worship. This we find. To the in-
direct evidence already given I must now add, in brief form,
the direct evidence.

Where the levels of mental nature and social progress are
lowest, we usually find, along with an absence of religious
ideas generally, an absence of, or very slight development
of, ancestor-worship. A typical case is that of the Juangs,
a wild tribe of Bengal, who, described as having no word for
god, no idea of a future state, no religious ceremonies, are

282 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

also said to " have no notion of the worship of ancestors."
Cook, telling us what the Fuegians were before contact with
Europeans had introduced foreign ideas, said there were no
appearances of religion among them ; and we are not told by
him or others that they were ancestor-worshippers. So far
as the scanty evidence may be trusted, the like seems to be
the case with the Andamanese. And though believing in
ghosts, the Australians and Tasmanians show us but little
persistence in ghost-propitiation. Among the Veddahs, in-
deed, though extremely low, an active if simple ancestor-
worship prevails ; but here, contact with the more advanced
Cingalese has probably been a factor.

When, however, instead of wandering groups who con-
tinually leave far behind the places where their members lie
buried, we come to settled groups whose burial-places are in
their midst, and among whom development of funeral rites is
thus made possible, we find that continued propitiation of dead
relatives becomes an established practice. All varieties of
men show us this. Taking first the Negrito races,

we read that " with the Fijians, as soon as beloved parents
expire, they take their place amongst the family gods.
Bures, or temples, are erected to their memory." Of the
Tannese, we learn that " their general name for gods seems to
be aremha ; that means a dead man." And the like is told
us of other New Caledonian peoples. With the

Malayo- Polynesians it is the same; save that with simple
ancestor-worship there usually coexists a more developed
worship of remoter ancestors, who have become deities.
Sacrificing to their gods, the Tahitiaus also sacrifice to the
spirits of departed chiefs and kindred. Similar statements
are made respecting the Sandwich Islanders, the Samoans,
die Malagasy, and the Sumatrans; of which last people
Marsden says, that though "they neither worship god,
devil, nor idol," yet they " venerate, almost to the point of
worshipping, the tombs and manes of their deceased anoes*
tors." The like holds in Africa. The people of

ANCESTOR- WORSHIP IK GENERAL. 283

Angola "are constantly deprecating the wrath of departed
souls f and the Bambiri u pray to departed chiefs and rela-
tives." So by the Kaffirs the spirits of the dead " are elevated
in fact to the rank of deities." And parallel accounts are given
of the Balonda, the Wanika, the Congoese. Quite

different though they are in type, the lower Asiatic races
yield us allied illustrations. Of the Bhils, of the Bghais, of
the Karens, of the Khonds, we find ancestor-worship alleged.
The Santals* religion "is based upon the family/' and "in
addition to the family-god, each household worships the
ghosts of its ancestors." And were there any doubt about the
origin of the family-god, it would be removed by Mac-
pherson's statement respecting the Khonds — "The more
distinguished fathers of the tribe, of its branches, or of its
sub-divisions, are all remembered by the priests, their
sanctity growing with the remoteness of the period of
their deaths." Of Northern Asiatics, the Kirghiz and the
Ostyaks yield further examples; and the Turkomans were
lately instanced as showing how this worship of the dead
survives along with a nominal monotheism. Then,

crossing over into America, the like phenomena are found
from the extreme North to the uttermost South — from the
Esquimaux to the Patagonians : reaching, as we have seen,
very elaborate developments among the ancient civilized
races.

How ancestor-worship prevailed, and was greatly elabo-
rated, among the people who, in the Nile valley, first carried
civilization to a high stage, has been already shown. How in
the far East, another vast society which had reached con-
siderable heights of culture while Europe was covered by
barbarians, has practised, and still practises, ancestor-wor-
ship, scarcely needs saying. And that it has all along
characterized the Hindu civilization is also a fact, though a
fact less familiar. With the highly-developed religious
systems of India, there coexists a daily re-genesis of deities
from dead men. Sir A C. Lvall says : —

284 tfHE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

" So far as I have been able to trace back the origin of the best-
known minor provincial deities, they are usually men of past genera-
tions who have earned special promotion and brevet rank among
disembodied ghosts by some peculiar acts or accidents of their lives
or deaths. . . . The Bunj&ras, a tribe much addicted to highway
robbery, worship a famous bandit . . . M. Raymond, the French
commander, who died at Hyderabad,, has been there canonized after a
fashion. ... Of the numerous local gods known to have been living
men, by far the greater proportion derive from the ordinary canoniza-
tion of holy personages. . . . The number of shrines thus raised in
Berar alone to these anchorites and persons deceased in the odour of
sanctity is large, and it is constantly increasing. Some of them have
already attained the rank of temples."

And now having observed the natural genesis of ancestor-
worship, its wide diffusion over the world, and its persistence
among advanced races side by side with more developed
forms of worship, let us turn from its external aspect to its
internal aspect. Let us, so far as we can, contemplate it
from the stand-point of those who practise it Fortunately,
two examples, one of its less-developed form and one of its
more-developed form, are exhibited to us in the words of
ancestor-worshippers themselves.

§ 148. Our old acquaintances the Amazulu, whose ideas
have been taken down from their own lips, supply the first
Here are the slightly-varying, but similar, statements of

different witnesses : —

"The ancients said that it was Unkulunkulu who gave origin to
men, and everything besides, both cattle and wild animals."

"The sun and moon we referred to Unkulunkulu, together with
the things of this world ; and yonder heaven we referred to Unku-
lunkulu."

" When black men say Unkulunkulu, or Uthlanga,* or the Creator,
they mean one and the same thing."

" It is said, Unkulunkulu came into being, and begat men ; he gave
them being ; he begat them."

* Bp. Callaway tells us that " Uthlanga is a reed, strictly speaking, one
which is capable of ' stooling,' throwing out oAsete j" and he thinks that it
comes by virtue of this metaphor " to mean a source of being." We shall
hereafter find reason for thinking that the tradition originates in no such
far-fetched metaphor; but in a much simpler way.

ANCESTOR-WOKSHIP IN GENEKAL. 285

"He begat the ancients of long ago; they died and left their
children ; they begat others, their sons, they died ; they begat others;
thus we at length have heard about Unkulunkulu."

M Unkulunkulu is no longer known. It is he who was the first man ;
he broke off in the beginning.1*

"Unkulunkulu told men — saying, 'I, too, sprang from a bed of
reeds.'"

" Unkulunkulu was a black man, for we see that all the people from
whom we sprang are black, and their hair is black."

After noting that here, and in other passages not quoted,
there are inconsistencies (as that sometimes a reed and some-
times a bed of reeds is said to be the origin of Unkulunkulu) ;
and after noting that variations of this primitive creed have
arisen since European immigration, as is shown by one of the
statements that " there were at first two women in a bed of
reeds ; one gave birth to a white man, and one to a black
man ;" let us go on to note the meaning of Unkulunkulu.
This, Bp. Callaway tells us, " expresses antiquity, age, literally
the old-old one, as we use great, in great-great-grandfather.1'
So that, briefly stated, the belief is that from a reed or bed of
reeds, came the remotest ancestor, who originated all other
things. By the Amazulu, however, this remotest ancestor is
but nominally recognized. Propitiation is limited to their
nearer ancestors who are secondary Unkulunkulus, called,
in some cases, Onkulunkulus. The ideas concerning, and
the behaviour towards, the remoter and nearer ancestors,
may be gathered from the following extracts : —

"They say that Unkulunkulu, who sprang from the bed of reeds, is
dead.19

"By that it began to be evident that Unkulunkulu had no longer
a son who could worship him ; . . . the praise-giving names of Unku-
lunkulu are lost"

"All nations [£&» tribes] have their own Unkulunkulu. Each has
its own."

" Utahange is the praise-giving name of our house ; he was the first
man of our family,— our Unkulunkulu, who founded our house."

" We worshipped those whom we had .seen with our eyes, their death
and their life amongst us."

"All we know is this, the young and the old die, and the shade
departs. The Unkulunkulu of us black men is that one to whom

r

286 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

we pray for our cattle, and worship, saying, ' Father V We say,
* Udhlamini ! Uhhadebe ! Umutimkulu ! Uthlomo ! Let me obtain
what I wish, Lord I Let me not die, but live, and walk long on the
earth.' Old people see him at night in their dreams.'1

. Here, then, we see ancestor-worship in but a sligbtly-

developed form — an unhistoric ancestor- worship. There have

arisen no personages dominant enough to retain their distinct

individualities through many generations, and to subordinate

the minor traditional individualities.

& 149. Peoples who are more settled and further advanced

show us a progress. Along with worship of recent and local

ancestors, there goes worship of ancestors who died at earlier

dates, and who, remembered by their power, have acquired in

the general mind a supremacy. This truth ought to need but

little illustration, for the habits of ancient races make it

familiar. As Mr. Grote says —

"In the retrospective faith of a Greek, the ideas of worship and
ancestry coalesced : every association of men, large or small, in whom
there existed a feeling of present union, traced back that union to some
common initial progenitor, and that progenitor, again, was either the
common god whom they worshipped, or some semi-divine being closely
allied to him.*

This stage of development in which, along with worship

of ancestry traced back a certain number of generations,

there went a more widely-diffused worship of some to whom

the relationships were lost in the far past, we find paralleled

in other places ; as, for example, in Peru. Sun-worship and

Ynca- worship were there associated with an active worship of

forefathers. AvendaSo, repeating the affirmative answers to

his questions, says : —

"Each of your ancestors . . . worshipped the marcayocc, who
is the founder or senior of the village, from whom you are sprung.
He was not worshipped by the Indians of any other village, for they
had another marcayocc,"

Chiefly, however, let us remark that these settled races of
America exhibited in their professed creeds the transforma-
tion of their remotest progenitors into deities. By the

AXCEST0B-W0B3HIP IN GENERAL. 287

Amazulu, the traditional old-old-one, though regarded as
having given origin to them and all other things, is not
worshipped: he is finally dead, and his sons, who once
worshipped him, are finally dead ; and the worship is mono-
polized by those later descendants who are remembered as
founders of tribes. But among these more advanced peoples
of America, the most ancient men, considered as still living
elsewhere, had a worship which subordinated the worship of
immediate ancestors. This is well brought out by Friar
Bobadilla's cross-examination of some Nicaraguans. Here
ore a few of the questions and answers :—

"Friar. Do you know who made a heaven and earth ?

"Indian. My parente told me when I was a child that it was
Tamagostat and QipattonaL . . .

"/V. Where are they ?

"IncL I do not know ; but they are our great gods whom we call
teote*. . . .

uFr. By whom are the teotes served ?

ul*tL I have heard old men say that there are people who serve
them, and that the Indians who die in their houses go under the earth,
and that those who die in battles go to serve the Uotes.

"Fr. Which is better — to go under the earth or to serve the teotes f

uIwL It is better to go to serve the teotes, for they go there to their
fathers.

"Fr. But if their fathers have died in bed, how can they see them
there?

"Ind. Our fathers are these teotes"

Here are passages from the examination of another witness
— the carique A vagoaltegoan : —

mFr. Who created heaven and earth, and the stars, and the moon,
and man, and all the rest ?

"Ind. Tamagostat and Qipattonal; the former is a man, and the
latter a woman.

"Fr. Who created that man and that woman?

"Ind. No one ; on the contrary, all men and women descend from
them. ...

"Fr. Are those gods whom you name made of flesh or wood, or of
what other material ?

"Ind They are of flesh, and are man and woman, and youths, and
are always the same; and they are of brownish colour, like us Indians;

'288 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

and they walked over the earth dressed, and ate what the Indians

"Fr. "What do they live on now ?

"Ind. They eat what the Indians eat ; for the plant (maize ?) and all
other eatables came from where the teotes dwell."
Another witness, Ta<joteyda, a priest, apparently sixty years
of age, who declined to become a Christian, gave a like
account of these ancestor-gods, answering questions thus : —

"/V. Are they men?

"Ind. They are men.

"Fr. How do you know ?

"Ind. My ancestors told me.

"Fr. Where are those gods of yours i

11 Ind. My ancestors told me that they are where the sun rises. . • .

"Fr. Did they come to . . . your shrines to speak to you 1

"Ind. Our ancestors said that long ago they used to come and speak
with them, but now they come no more.

"Fr. Do those teotes eat ?

"Ind. I have heard my ancestors say that they eat the blood and
hearts of men, and some birds ; and we give them candlewood, incense
and resin ; that is what they eat."

From other like testimonies given by the thirteen caziques,

and chiefs, and priests, I will add only the following : —

"Fr. Who sends you rain and all things f

"Ind. The water is sent us by Quiateot, who is a man, and has
father and mother, and the father is called Omeyateite, and the
mother, Omeyatecigoat ; and those dwell . • . where the sun rises
in heaven."

Pages might be filled by evidence of like meaning. What
has been given shows, like the rest, that the remotest
remembered ancestors have become divinities, remaining
human in physical and mental attributes, and differing
only in power; that being recognized in tradition as the
begetters, or causers, of existing men, they, as the only
known causers of anything, come to be tacitly regarded as
the causers of other things;* and that they reside in the

* While correcting this chapter, I have met with proof that the inade-
quately-differentiated ideas and words of primitive peoples, lead to confusion*
of this kind. In his Sanskrit Texts, Dr. Muir, showing the conceptions
which the ancient Bishis had of the Vedic hymns as composed by them*
selres, groups together tLe various cased in which a word implying this com*

ANCESTOR- WORSHIP IN. GENERAL. 289

region whence the race came, which is the other world tra-
velled to by the dead. The statements- of these peoples
directly imply that transformation of ancestors into deities,
which we saw was indirectly ijnplied by the growth of
funeral rites into worship of the dead, and eventually into
religious worship.

§ 150. It is said, however, that ancestor-worship is
peculiar to the inferior races. I have seen implied, I have
heard in conversation, and I have now before me in print,
the statement that "no Indo-European or Semitic nation,
so far as we know, seems to have made a religion of wor-
ship of the dead." And the suggested conclusion is that these
superior races, who in their earliest recorded times had
higher forms of worship, were not even in their still' earlier
times, ancestor-worshippers.

That those who have another theory to uphold should
thus interpret the evidence, is not unnatural. Every hypo-
thesis tends to assimilate facts yielding it support and. to
reject adverse facts. But that adherents of the Evolution-
doctrine should admit a distinction so profound between
the minds of different human races, is surprising. Those
who believe in creation by manufacture, may consistently
hold that Aryans and Semites were supernaturally endowed
with higher conceptions than Turanians. If species of animals
were separately made with fundamental differences, varieties
of men may have been so too. But to assert that the human
type has been evolved from lower types, and then to deny
that the superior human races have been evolved, mentally
as well as physically, from the inferior, and must once have
had those general conceptions which the inferior still have,
is a marvellous inconsistency. Even in the absence of

position is used. The several words thus used are " making,'1 " fabricating,"
44 begetting, or generating." Now if in such a language as Sanscrit, these
words are so imperfectly specialized as to be indiscriminately applied to the
same act, we may well understand how incapable ruder languages must be of
ciprcesing a distinction between begetting, making, and creating.

V

290 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

evidence it would be startling; and in the presence of
contrary evidence it is extremely startling.

If in their more advanced stages the leading divisions of
the Aryans habitually, while worshipping their greater
deities, also worshipped ancestors, who, according to their
remoteness, were regarded as divine, semi-divine, and human ;
must we really infer that in the course of their progress they
adopted this ancestor-worship from inferior races? On
finding that by the Greeks, heroes from whom the people of
each locality traced their descent, were made objects of
religious rites, just as by aboriginal Peruvians and others;
shall we say that while becoming civilized they grafted on
their higher creed this lower creed? When we recall the
facts that besides sacrificing to the ghosts of their recent
dead, the Romans sacrificed to the ghosts of their ancient
dead, who were the founders of their families, just as the
Amazulu do at the present time ; are we to infer that while
Asiatic nomads they had no such worship, but that, then
worshipping only certain personalized powers of Nature,
they adopted the religion of less cultured peoples as they
themselves became more cultured ? Such assumptions would
be inadmissible, even had we no indications of the original
Aryan beliefs ; and are still more inadmissible now that we
know what the original Aryan beliefs were. As expressed in
their sacred writings, they were essentially the same as those
of existing barbarians. "The heroic Indra, who delights
in praise," and to whom the hymn is "chaunted at the
sacrifice," hoping to impel "the well-accoutred, the loud-
thundering, to succour us," is but the ancestor considerably
expanded ; and from the mouth of the Zulu chief about to
sacrifice, would equally well come the words of the Aryan
rishi — ''friends drive hither the milch cow with a new
hymn." If the human derivation of Indra needs further
evidence, we have it in the statement concerning an intoxi-
cating beverage made from the sacred plant — ."the soma
exhilarates not Indra unless it be poured out;" which is

ANCESTOR-WORSHIP IN GENERAL. 291

exactly the belief of an African respecting the libation of
beer for an ancestral ghost. From the Rig-Veda we learn
that men who by their virtues gained admission to heaven,
attained an existence like that of deities ; and these "ancient
pious sages/' who "shared in the enjoyments of the gods,"
were implored to be ** propitious " and to protect Still more
specific are passages* from the laws of Menu. We have the
statement that the manes eat of the funeral meal ; we have
the direction to the head of the family to make a daily
offering to get the good will of the manes, and also a
monthly offering.. And the ideas of savages, whose superior
gods are the more powerful ghosts, are undeniably paralleled
in a further injunction.. That an oblation to the manes may be
obtained by them, the master of the house must commence
with an oblation to the gods, so that the gods may not appro-
priate what is intended for the manes !

Do, then, the Semitic races furnish a solitary exception ?
Strong evidence must be' assigned before it can be admitted
that they do ; and no such strong evidence is forthcoming.
Contrariwise, what positive* facts we gather have opposite
implications. Remembering that nomadic habits are un-
favourable to evolution of the ghost-theory, it is manifest
that if the ancient Hebrews, like some existing peoples, had
not reached the conception of a permanently-existing ghost,
they would, of course, have no established ancestor-worship :
not because it was beneath them, but because the conditions
for display of it were not fulfilled. Further, we must note
that the silence of their legends is but a negative fact, which
may be as misleading as negative facts often are ; and beyond
the general reason we have special reasons for suspecting this
illnsiveness* For among other peoples we find traditions
that give no accounts of practices which not only existed but
were dominant: the cause being that extraordinary occur-
rences only are narrated, and not ordinary occurrences.
Interesting personal adventures form their subject-matter
and not social habits, which are at best traceable by implica-

u 2

292 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

tion, and in a condensed narrative may leave no traces at all.
Thus, to take a case, the legends of the Polynesians say
scarcely ijaore than the Bible does about the worship of
ancestors; and yet ancestor-worship was in full activity
among them. Again, it should be remembered that

the sacred books of a religion nominally professed, may give
very untrue ideas concerning the actual beliefs of its pro-
fessors. Two facts already named incidentally show this.
The Turkomans are rigid Mahometans ; and yet, making
pilgrimages to the tombs of canonized robbers, they pray to
their ghosts. Similarly, the acceptance of Mahometanism
does not prevent the Bedouins from sacrificing at the graves
of their forefathers. In both cases there is habitually done
that which we should infer could not be done, if we drew;
our inferences from the Koran. When, thus warned, we turn
to the denunciations of the Hebrew prophets, directed against
forms of worship which the Hebrews had in common with
other races, we are reminded that the religion embodied in
the Bible differed greatly from the popular religion. Besides
the idolatry persisted in notwithstanding reprobation, there
was tree-worship ; and the ceremonials, equally low with those
of semi-civilized peoples in general, included prostitution in
temples. Moreover, the association of mourning dresses witli
fasting, as well as the law against self-bleeding and cutting-
off the hair for the dead, imply primitive funeral rites like
those of ancestor-worshippers in general. Nor is this all.
On making an offering of first-fruits to Jahyeh, the sacrificer
is required to say that he has not " given ought thereof for the
dead." Hence, the conclusion must be that ancestor-worship
had developed as far as nomadic habits allowed, before it
was repressed by a higher worship. But be there

or be there not adequate reason for ascribing a partially-
developed ancestor-worship to the Hebrews, there is evidence
that it has existed, and continues to exist, among other Semitic
peoples. In a paper entitled " Le culte des ancfitres divinises
dans rY&nen," contained in the Complcs rendus of the French

ANCESTOR-WORSHIP IN GENERAL. 293

Academy, M. Lenormant, after 'commenting on some inscrip-
tions, says : —

" Here, then, we have twice repeated a whole aeries of human persons,
decidedly deceased ancestors or relations of the author of the dedication.
Their names are accompanied with the titles they bore during lifetime.
They are invoked by their descendants at the same time, in the same
degree (rank), with the same intention, as the gods [mentioned in the
same formula]; being, in short, completely placed on a par with the
inhabitants of heaven. . . . They incontestably are deifie& persons,
objects of a family worship, and gods or 'genii in the belief of the
people of their race.9

Kindred evidence is furnished by the following passage from
the Ussai mr Vhistoirt des Ardbes of M. Caussin de Perceval.
Speaking of the time of Mahomet, he says the greatest part
of the nation [i.e., all who Were not either Jews or Christians]
were pagans.

" They had a great number of deities ; each tribe and nearly each
family had one which they held in special honour. They admitted,
however, the existence of a Supreme God (Allah), with whom the
other deities were powerful intercessors. . . . Some believed that at
death all was at an end ; others believed in a resurrection and another
life.*

Several significant implications occur here. The fact last
named reminds us of the ancient Hebrew belief, or no-belief.
Further, this difference of opinion among Arabs, some of
whom are stationary and some wandering, harmonizes with
the suggestion aboVe made, that nomadic habits are less
favourable than the habits of settled life to a persistent
ghost-propitiation with all its sequences. Respecting the
idea of a supreme deity, accompanying ancestor-worship
among them, it is manifest that wandering hordes, coming
in frequent contact with relatively-civilized peoples, would
inevitably acquire it from them; as, from their European
visitors, it is now acquired by savages. But that the belief so
acquired is vague and superficial, is shown us by the existing
Bedouins ; whose Mahometanism, according to Mr. Palgrave,
is of the most shadowy kind, while the reality of their ances-
tor-worship is proved by the sacrifices they " devoutly" make

294 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

at tombs. No more, then, of Semites than of Aryans can
ancestor-worship be denied.

§ 151. Mythologists, however, say that these observances
have a moral rather than a religious character. Let us
contemplate this proposed distinction under its concrete
aspects.

When Nicaraguans are described as having adored the
teotes, said by them to be the ancient men from whom they
descended, we may accept the fact as it stands, for these
people were of inferior race ; but when, in the Institutes of
Menu, we read that "the sons of Marichi and of all the
other Bishis [ancient sages], who were the offspring of
Menu, son of Brahmd, are called the companies of Pitris,
or forefathers/' we must understand the fatherhood not
literally but metaphorically : these people were Aryans. If
one of the Amazulu, sacrificing a bullock, begins by inviting
" the first Itongo who is known " (oldest ancestral ghost), or
in other cases is careful to name first a ghost who is supposed
to be angry because he has not been propitiated, the fact
exhibits the crude ideas of a race incapable of high civiliza-
tion. If, however, the Institutes of Menu say — " Let an offer-
ing to the gods be made at the beginning and end of the
srdddha: it must not begin and end with an offering to
ancestors ; for he who begins and ends it with an oblation to
the Pitris, quickly perishes with his progeny ; " we must,
seeing the proved capacities of the Aryan mind, distinguish
between the religious sentiment prompting one part of the
sacrifice, and the moral sentiment prompting the other.
Negroes who, when suffering, go to the woods and cry for help
to the spirits of dead relatives, show by these acts the gro-
velling nature of their race ; and we must not confound with
their low conceptions those high conceptions of the Iranians
implied in the JKhorda Avesta, where the souls of forefathers
are called upon in prayers : these express filial feeling only.
Obviously, the frequent sacrifices by which the ancient

ANCESTOR-WORSHIP IK GENERAL. 295

Egyptians honoured their dead, namely, three " festivals of the
seasons," twelve " festivals of the month," and twelve " festivals
of the half-month," formed part of their religion ; for were they
not Turanians and ancestor-worshippers? Quite otherwise,
however, must we interpret the offerings made by the Romans
to their Lares, on the calends, nones, and ides of every month ;
for these were merely marks of proper respect to forefathers.
The act of a savage who at each meal throws aside some
food and drink for the spirits of the dead, shows a wish to
propitiate which was not felt by the Soman who offered a
portion of each meal to his Lares. And if, on going abroad,
the Roman prayed to his Lares for a happy return, he did not
ascribe to them a power such as is ascribed to ghosts of rela-
tives by the Indian or Yeddah who asks their aid when he
goes hunting. Still less must we suppose any similarity
between the ideas of the sanguinary Mexicans, Peruvians,
Chibchas, Dahomans, Ashantis, and others who immolate
victims at funerals, and the ideas of those early Romans who
offered up human sacrifices at tombs. Considering that the
Romans belonged to one of the noble types of man, we must
conclude that they adopted this habit from baser types around
them.

What shall we say of such modes of interpretation f We
may say at least this, that were he allowed equal licence in
dealing with facts, the feeblest dialectician might safely under-
take to establish any proposition that could be named.

§ 152. How unwarranted is the assertion that the superior
races have not passed through this lower cult, will be again
seen on remembering that down to the present time, ancestor-
worship lingers among the most civilized of them. Through-
out Europe it still shows itself, here feebly and there with
some vigour, notwithstanding the repressive influence of
Christianity.

Even Protestants yield undeniable traces of the aboriginal
ideas and sentiments and acts. I do not refer merely to

296 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

the decoration of graves with flowers, reminding us of the
platings of flowers on graves by ancestor- worshipping peoples
who also offered flowers to their deities; tor this practice,
spreading with the ritualistic reaction, may be ^considered as
part of a revived Catholicism. I refer father to certain less
obtrusive facts. Dead parents are often thought df among ns
as approving or disapproving. They are figured in the minds
of relatives as though they knew what was being done, and
as likely to be hurt by disregard of their injunctions. Occa-
sionally a portrait is imagined to look reproachfully on a
descendant who is transgressing ; and the anxiety not to dis-
obey a -dying wish certainly acts as a deterrent So that,
indefinite though their forms have become, the aboriginal
notions of subordination and propitiation have not wholly
disappeared.

It is, however, among Catholic peoples that this primitive
religion most distinctly shows itseil The mortuary chapels
in cemeteries on the Continent, are manifestly homologous
with the elaborate tombs of the ancients. If erecting a
chapel to the Virgin is an act of worship, then the sentiment
of worship cannot be wholly absent if the erected chapel is
over a dead parent. And though mostly the prayers in such
chapels, or at graves, are only for the dead, I am told by two
French Catholics that exceptionally, when a pioufi parent is
supposed to be not in purgatory but in .heaven, there are
prayers to the dead for intercession, A French correspondent
questions this; but he admits that men and women who
have died in the odour of sanctity, are canonized by popular
opinion and adored. " Ainsi, j'ai vn, en Bretagne, le tombeau
d'un prStre tr&s pieux et tr&s charitable : il £tait convert de
couronnes ; on s'y rendait en foule It prier de procurer des
gu&isons, de veiller sur les enfants," etc. Accepting only
this last statement as trustworthy, it proves that the primi-
tive religion lingers yet.

Even clearer proof that it lingers is yielded by the still-
extant customs of feeding the spirits, both annually and at

ANCESTOR-WORSHIP IN GENERAL. 29V

other times. If we read of periodic feasts for the dead
among extinct nations, or now among the existing Chinese,
and tegard such observances as parts of their ancestor-
worship ; and if we learn that the feast of All Souls and
sundry kindred observances are continued yet in various
parts of Europe, both by Teutons and Celts ; can we deny
that an original ancestor-worship is implied by them ?*

§ 153. See, then, how fully induction justifies deduction;
and verifies the inference suggested in the last chapter.

Taking the aggregate of human peoples — tribes, societies,
nations — we find that nearly all of them, if not literally all,
have a belief, vague or distinct, in a reviving other-self of the
dead man. Within this class of peoples we find a class not
quite so large, by the members of which the other-self of the
dead man is supposed to exist for a time, or always, after
death. Nearly as numerous is the class of peoples included
in this, who show us ghost-propitiation at the funeral, and
for a subsequent interval. Then comes the narrower class
contained in the last — those more advanced peoples who, along
with the belief in a ghost which permanently exists, show us
a persistent ancestor-worship. Again, somewhat further re-

* The following illustrative passage has been translated for me : — " Roman
Orthotic peasants do not forget aU the year round to care for the welfare of
the eonls of their dead. The crusts of the table are collected throughout the
week, and on Saturday night are thrown into the hearth-fire; that they may
terre as food for the souls during the following holy day. Any soup which
drops on the table ... is left to the poor souls. When a woman prepares
the dough, she oasts behind her a handful of floar, and throws a piece of
dough into the furnace ; when she bakes little cakes, she puts some fat into
the pan and the first cake into the fire. Wood-cutters put little pieces of
bread which hare become too dry, upon the tree trunks -. all for the poor
souls. . . . When the time of All Souls is approaching, the same care for the
deceased is shown more vividly. In every house a light is kept burning all
night ; the lamp is no longer filled with oil but with fat ; a door, or at least
• window, remains open," and the supper is left on the table, even with some
additions ; " people go to bed earlier, — ail to let the dear little angels enter
without being disturbed. • . . Such is the custom of the peasants of the
Tyrol, Old Bavaria, Upper Palatinate, and German Bohemia." — Rochholt,
Demttcher Qlaube und Branch, I, pp. 823-4.

298 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

stricted, though by no means small, we have a class of peoples
whose worship of distinguished ancestors partially subordi-
nates that of the undistinguished. And eventually, the
subordination growing more decided, becomes marked where
these distinguished ancestors were leaders of conquering
races.

Even the words applied in more advanced societies to
different orders of supernatural beings, indicate by their
original community of meaning, that this has been the
course of genesis. The fact cited above, that among the
Tannese the word for a god means literally a dead man, is
typical of facts everywhere found. Ghost, spirit, demon —
names at first applied to the other-self without distinctions
of character— come to be differently applied as ascribed dif-
ferences of character arise : the shade of an enemy becomes a
devil, and a friendly shade becomes a divinity. Where the
conceptions have not developed far, there are no differentiated
titles, and the distinctions made by us cannot be expressed.
The early Spanish missionaries in America were inconve-
nienced by finding that the only native word they could use
for God also meant devil. In Greek, halpmv and deo? are
interchangeable. By iEschylus, Agamemnon's children are
represented as appealing to their father's ghost as to a god.
So, too, with the Romans. Besides the unspecialized use of
dcemon, which means an angel or genius, good or bad, we find
the unspecialized use of deus for god and ghost On tombs
the manes were called gods; and a law directs that "the
rights of the manes-gods are to be kept sacred." Similarly
with the Hebrews. Isaiah, representing himself as com-
manded to reject it, quotes a current belief implying such
identification : — " And when they say unto you, ' Consult the
ghost-seers and the wizards, that chirp and that mutter!
Should not people consult their gods, even the dead on behalf
of the living V " When Saul goes to question the ghost of
Samuel, the expression of the enchantress is — " I saw gods
[elohini] ascending out of the earth:" god and ghost being

ANCESTOR-WORSHIP IN GENERAL. 299

thus used as equivalents.* Even in our own day the kinship
is traceable. The statement that God is a spirit, shows the
application of a term which, otherwise applied, signifies a
human soul. Only by its qualifying epithet is the meaning
of Holy Ghost distinguished from the meaning of ghost in
general. A divine being is still denoted by words that
originally meant the breath which, deserting a man's body
at death, was supposed to constitute the surviving part

Do not these various evidences warrant the suspicion that
from the ghost, once uniformly conceived, have arisen the
variously-conceived supernatural beings? We may infer,
a priori, that in conformity with the law of Evolution, there
will develop many unlike conceptions out of conceptions
originally alike. The spirits of the dead, forming, in a primi-
tive tribe, an ideal group the members of which are but
little distinguished from one another, will grow more and more
distinguished. As societies advance, and as traditions, local
and general, accumulate and complicate, these once-similar
human souls, acquiring in the popular mind differences of
character and importance, will diverge; until their original
community of nature becomes scarcely recognizable.

Expecting, then, heterogeneous modifications of them,
multiplying in thought as populations increase, ever spread-
ing into more varied habitats, and tending continually to fill
every place in Nature that can be occupied, let us now con-
template some of their most conspicuous types.

• Concerning the first of these passages, which is given as rendered in The
Jlook of Itaiah (1870), Cheyne (p. 83) explains that god* are spirits of
departed national heroes. [In The Prophecies of Isaiah (1882) he varies the
translation; especially by changing gods into god — a rendering of elohim,
which agrees with accepted ideas much better than it agrees with the con-
text.] Concerning the second passage the Speaker's Commentary says—
•* It is possible that elohim is here used in a general sense of a supernatural
Appearance, either angel or spirit." And Kuenen remarks (I, p. 224)
44 There is no doubt that originally the higher beings, the objects of man's
fear (el6ah)t were indicated by it [the name elohtt*], so that this name too
as an argument in favour of a former plurality of gods."

CHAPTER XXI.

IDOL- WORSHIP AND FETICH- WORSHIP.

§ 154. Facts already named show how sacrifices to the
man recently dead, pass into sacrifices to his preserved
body. In § 137 we saw that to the corpse of a Tahitian
chief, daily offerings were made on an altar by a priest;
and the ancient Central Americans performed kindred rites
before bodies dried by artificial heat That, as embalming
developed, this greW into mummy-worship, Peruvians and
Egyptians have furnished proof. Here the thing to be ob-
served is that, while believing the ghost of the dead man to
have gone away, these peoples had confused notions, either
that it came back into the mummy, or that the mummy was
itself conscious. Among the Egyptians, this was implied by th£
practice of sometimes placing their embalmed dead at table.
The Peruvians* who by a parallel custom betrayed a like
belief, betrayed it in other ways also. By some of them the
dried corpse of a parent was carried round the fields that he
might see the state of the erops. How the ancestor, thus
recognized as present, was also recognized as exercising
authority, we see in a story narrated by Santa Cruz. When
his second sister refused to marry him, Huayna Ccapac
" went with presents and offerings to the body of his father,
praying him to give her for his wife, but the dead body gave
no answer, while fearful signs appeared in the heavens."

IDOL-WORSHIP AND FETICH-WORSHIP. 301

The primitive notion that any property characterizing an
aggregate inheres in all parts of it, implies a corollary from
this belief. The soul, present in the body of the dead man
preserved entire, is also present in preserved parts, of his
body. Hence the faith in relics. In the Sandwich Islands,
bones of kings and principal chiefs were carried about by
their descendants, under the belief that the spirits exercised
guardianship over them. The Grees carry bones and hair of
deceased relatives about for three years. The Caribs, and
several Guiana tribes, have their cleaned bones " distributed
among the relatives after death." The Tasmanians show
" anxiety to possess themselves of a bone from the skull or the
arms of their deceased relatives." The Andamanese " widows
may be seen with the skulls of their deceased partners sus-
pended from their necks."

This belief in the power of relics leads in some cases to
direct worship of them. The natives of Lifu, Loyalty
Islands, who "invoke the spirits of their departed chiefs/'
also "preserve relics of their dead, such as a finger-nail,
a tooth, * tuft of hair, . . . and pay divine homage to it."
" In cases of sickness, and other calamities," New Caledonians
"present offerings of food to the skulls of the departed."
Moreover, we have the evidence furnished by conversation
with a relic. " In the private fetish-hut of the King Ad61ee,
at Badagry, the skull of that monarch's father is preserved
in a clay vessel placed in the earth." He " gently rebukes it
if his success does not happen to answer, his expectations."
Similarly among, the Mandans, who place the skulls of. their
dead in a circle, each, wife knows the skull of her former.
husband or child,

- ♦ *

"and there seldom passes a day that she does not visit it, with a dish
of the best cooked food. . . . There is scarcely. an hour, in a pleasant
day, but more or less of these women may be seen sitting or lying by
the skull of their child or husband — talking to it in the most pleasant
and endearing, language that they can uso (as they were wont to do in
former days), and seemingly getting an answer back.'*

Thus propitiation of the n^n just dead leads to propitiation

302 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

of his preserved body, or a preserved part of it; and the
ghost is supposed to be present in each.

§ 155. Any one asked to imagine a transition from wor-
ship of the preserved body, or a preserved part of it, to
idol-worship, would probably fail ; but transitions occur.

The object worshipped is sometimes a figure of the de-
ceased, made partly of his remains and partly of other sub-
stances. Landa says the Yucatanese —

" cut off the heads of the ancient lords of Cocom when they died, and
cleared them from flesh by cooking them ; they then sawed off half of
the top of the head, leaving the anterior part with the jaw-bones and
teeth, and to these half -skulls they joined what they wanted in flesh
with a certain cement, and made them as like as possible to those to
whom they belonged ; and they kept them along with the statues and
the ashes. All were kept in the oratories of their houses beside their
idols, and were greatly reverenced and assiduously cared for. On all
their festivals they offered them food." ... In other cases they " made
for their fathers wooden statues," left "the occiput hollow,9 put in
ashes of the burnt body, and attached " the skin of the occiput taken
off the corpse."

The Mexicans had a different method of joining some of the
deceased's substance with an effigy of him. When a dead
lord had been burned, " they carefully collected the ashes,
and after having kneaded them with human blood, they madfe
of them an image of the deceased, which was kept in memory
of him." And from Gamargo we also learn that images of
the dead were worshipped.

A transitional combination partially unlike in kind is
found : sometimes the ashes are contained in a man-shaped
receptacle of clay. Among the Yucatanese —

"The bodies of lords and people of high position were burnt. The
ashes were put in large urns and temples erected over them. ... In
the case of great lords the ashes were placed in hollow clay statues."

And in yet other cases there is worship of the relics joined
with the representative figure, not by inclusion but only by
proximity. Speaking of the Mexicans, Gomara says that
having burnt the body of their deceased king, they gathered

IDOL-WORSHIP AND FETICH-WORSHIP, 803

up the ashes, bones, jewels, and gold, in cloths, and made a
figure dressed as a man, before which, as well as before the
relics, offerings were placed.

Lastly may be named the practice of the Egyptians, who
as their frescoes show, often worshipped the mummy not
as exposed to view, but as inclosed in a case shaped and
painted to represent the dead man,

§ 156. From these examples of transition we may turn
to those in which funeral propitiations are made to a sub-
stituted image.

The Mexicans practised cremation ; and when men killed
in battle were missing, they made figures of them, and after
honouring these burnt them. Again,

" When any of the merchants died on their journey, ... his rela-
tions . . • formed an imperfect statue of wood to represent the deceased,
to which they paid all the funeral honours which they would have
done to the real dead body."

M When some one died drowned or in any other way which excluded
concremation and required burial, they made a likeness of him and
put it on the altar of idols, together with a large offering of wine and
bread."

In Africa kindred observances occur. While a deceased

king of Congo is being embalmed, a figure is set up in the

palace to represent him, and is daily furnished with food and

drink. Among the Abyssinians mourning takes place on the

third day; and the deceased having been buried on the day

of his death, a representation of the corpse does duty instead.

Some Papuan Islanders, after a grave is filled up, collect

round an idol and offer provisions to it. Concerning certain

Javans, Baffles says that after a death a feast is held, in

which a man-shaped figure, " supported round the body by

the clothes of the deceased," plays an important part

These practices look strange to us ; but a stranger thing

is that we have so soon forgotten the like practices of

civilized nations. When Charles VI of France was buried,

" Over the coffin was an image of the late king, bearing a rich crown
of gold and diamonds and holding two shields, one of gold, the other of

304 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

V

silver; the hands had white gloves on, and the fingers were adorned
with very precious rings. This image was dressed with cloth of gold,9
. . . " In this state was he solemnly carried to the church of Notre
Dame."

Speaking of the father of the great Cond£, Mme. de Motte-
ville says — " The effigy of this prince was waited upon (servii)
for three days, as was customary:" forty days having been
the original time during which food was supplied to such
an effigy at the usual hours. Monstrelet describes a like
figure used at the burial of Henry V of England; and
figures of many English monarchs, thus honoured at their
fuuerals, are still preserved in Westminster Abbey: the
older having decayed into fragments.

With these reminders before us, we can have little diffi-
culty in understanding the primitive ideas respecting such
representations. When we read that the Coast Negroes in
some districts " place several earthen images on the graves ;"
that the Araucanians fixed over a tomb an upright log,
"rudely carved to represent the human frame;" that after
the deaths of New Zealand chiefs, wooden images, 20 to
40 ft. high, were erected as monuments ; we cannot shut our
eyes to the fact that the figure of the dead man is an incipient
idol. Could we doubt, our doubting would end on finding
the figure persistently worshipped. Jos. de Acosta says of
the Peruvians that —

"every king in his lifetime caused a figure to be made wherein he was
represented, which they called Huanque, which signifieth brother, for
that they should doe to this image, during his life and death, as much
honour and reverence as to himself.1'

So, too, according to Andagoya,

" When a chief died, his house and wives and servants remained as
in his lifetime, and a statue of gold was made in the likeness of the
chief, which was served as if it had been alive, and certain villages
were set apart to provide it with clothing, and all other necessaries."

And the Yucatanese u worshipped the idol of one who is said
to have been one of their great captains."

§ 157. That we may understand better the feelings with

IDOL-WORSHIP AND TOUCH-WORSHIP. 305

which a savage looks at a representative figure, let us recall
the feelings produced by representations among ourselves..

When a lover kisses the miniature of his mistress, he is
obviously influenced by an association between the appear-
ance and the reality. Even more strongly do such associa-
tions sometimes act A young lady known to me confesses
that she cannot bear to sleep in a room having portraits on
the walls ; and this repugnance is not uncommon. In such
cases the knowledge that portraits consist of paint and canvas
only, fails to expel the suggestion of something more. The
vivid representation so strongly arouses the thought of a
living person, that this cannot be kept out of consciousness.

Now suppose culture absent — suppose there exist no ideas
of attribute, law, cause — no distinctions between natural and
unnatural, possible and impossible. This associated con-
sciousness of a living presence will then persist. No conflict
with established knowledge arising, the unresisted suggestion
will become a belief.

In § 133, beliefs thus produced in savages were inci-
dentally referred to. Here are some further examples of
them. The North American Indians think portraits super-
natural, and look at them with the same ceremony as at a
dead person. The Okanagans " have the same aversion that
has been noted on the coast" to having their portraits taken.
The Mandans thought the life put into a picture was so much
life taken from the original. Catlin says —

" They pronounced me the greatest medicine man in the world ; for
they said I had made living being*, — they said they could see their chiefs
alive, in two places — those that I had made were a little alive — they
could see their eyes move."

Nor do more advanced races fail to supply kindred facta.
In Madagascar, friends of a prince, on seeing a photograph of
him, took off their hats to it and verbally saluted it

That which holds of a picture holds of an image — holds
even more naturally ; since the carved representation being
solid, approaches closer to the reality. Where the image is

x

306 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

painted and has eyes inserted, this notion of participation in
the vitality of the person imitated becomes, in the uncritical
mind of the savage, very strong. Any one who remembers
the horror a child shows on seeing an adult put on an ugly
mask, even when the mask has been previously shown to it,
may conceive the awe which a rude effigy excites in the
primitive mind. The sculptured figure of the dead man
arouses the thought of the actual dead man, which passes into
a conviction that he is present

§ 158. And why should it not ? If the other-self can leave
the living body and re-enter it — if the ghost can come hack
and animate afresh the dead body — if the embalmed Peruvian,
presently to be revived by his returned double, was then to
need his carefully-preserved hair and nails — if the soul of
the Egyptian, after its transmigrations occupying some thou-
sands of years, was expected to infuse itself once more into
his mummy ; why should not a spirit go into an image ? A
living body differs more from a mummy in texture, than a
mummy does from wood. Obviously this was the reasoning
of the Egyptians who provided for the ka, or double, of a dead
man, a statue or statues entombed with his dried body, as sub-
stitutes for it should it be destroyed. M. llasp&o writes : —

" Le corps qui, pendant la dur6e de l'existenoe terrestre, avait aervi
de support au Double, momifi6 maintenant et defigurd, quelque aoiu
qu'on eut mis a l'embauiner, ne rappelait plus que de loin la forme du
vivant. U 6tait, d'ailleurs, unique et facile a de'truire : on pouvait lo
bruler, le deniembrer, en disperser les moroeaux. Lai disparu, que
serait devenu le Doublet II s'appuyait sur les statues. Les statues
etaient plus solides et rien n'empechait de les fabriquer en la quantity
qu'on voulait Un seul corps 6tait une seule chance de duree pour le
Double; vingt statues representaieut vingt-cinq chances. De la, ce
nombre vraiment 6tonnant de statues qu'on rencontre quelquef ois dans
une seule tombe."

"Whence it is inferable that the Egyptians regarded the statues
of gods and kings as occasional habitations for their ghosts.

That a savage thinks an effigy is inhabited we have abun-
dant proofs. Among the Yorubans, a mother carries for some

IDOL-WORSHIP AND KETICH-WORSHlp". 307

lime a wooden figure of her lost child, and when she eats, puts
part of her food to its lips. The Samoiedes " feed the wooden
images of the dead." The relatives of an Ostyak —
"make a rude wooden image representing, and in honour of, the
deceased, which is set up in the yurt and receives divine honours for a
greater or less time as the priest directs. ... At every meal they set
an offering of food before the image; and should this represent a
deceased husband, the widow embraces it from time to time. . . . This
kind of worship of the dead lasts about three years* at the end of which
time the image is buried"

Erman, who states this, adds the significant fact that the
descendants of deceased priests preserve the images of their
ancestors from generation to generation ;

M and by well-contrived oracles and other arts, they manage to procure
offerings for these their family penates, as abundant as those laid on
the altars of the universally-acknowledged gods. But that these latter
also have an historical erigin, that they were originally monuments
of distinguished men, to which prescription and the interest of the
Rh±m*na gave by degrees an arbitrary meaning and importance, seems
to me not liable to doubt"

These Ostyaks, indeed, show us unmistakably how the dead
man's effigy passes into the divine idol ; for the worships of
the two are identical. At each meal, placing the dishes before
the household god, they wait (t'.&, fad) till " the idol, who
eats invisibly, has had enough." Moreover, when a Samoiede
goes on a journey, " his relatives direct the idol towards the
place to which he is gone, in order that it may look after
him." How, among more advanced peoples in these regions,
there persists the idea that the idol of the god, developed as
we have seen from the effigy of the dead man, is the residence
of a conscious being, is implied by the following statement of
Erman respecting the Russians of Irkutsk : —

u Whatever familiarities may be permitted between the sexes, the
only scruple by which the young women are infallibly controlled, is a
superstitious dread of being alone with their lovers in the presence of
the holy images. Conscientious difficulties of this kind, however, are
frequently obviated by putting these witnesses behind a curtain."

like beliefs are displayed by other races wholly unallied
After a death in a Sandwich-Island family, the survivors

x 2

308 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

worship " an image with which they imagine the spirit is in

some way connected;" and "Oro, the great national idol,

was generally supposed to give the responses to the priests."

Of the Tucatanese we read that " when the Itzaex performed

any feat of valour, their idols, whom they consulted, were

wont to make reply to them ; " and Yillagutierre describes

the beating of an idol said to have predicted the arrival of

the Spaniards, but who had deceived them respecting the

result Even more strikingly shown is this implication in the

Quiche legend. Here is an extract : —

" And they worshipped the gods that had become stone, Tohil, Avilix,
and Hacavitz ; and they offered them the blood of beasts, and of bird*,
and pierced their own ears and shoulders in honour of these gods, and
collected the blood with a sponge, and pressed it out into a cup befoie
them. . . . And these three gods, petrified, as we have told, could
nevertheless resume a moveable shape when they pleased ; which,
indeed, they often did."

Nor is it among inferior races only that conceptions of
this kind are found. Dozy, describing the ideas and practices
of idolatrous Arabians, quotes this story : —

" When Amrolcais set out to revenge the death of his father on the
Beni- Asad, he stopped at the temple of the idol Dhou-'l-Kholoea to
consult fate by means of the three arrows called command, prohibition,
expectation. Having drawn prohibition, he recommenced drawing.
But three times he drew prohibition. Thereupon he broke the arrows
and throwing them at the idol's head, he shouted — 'Wretch, if the
killed man had been thy father, thou wouldst not have forbidden
revenging him.' w

Of kindred beliefs in classic times, an instance is furnished
by the statements respecting the so-called vocal Meinnon.
Among the inscriptions made by visitors on its pedestal, here
is one signed Gemellus: — "Once the son of Saturn, great
Jove, had made thee monarch of the East; now thou art
but a stone ; and it is from a stone that thy voice proceeds."
Similarly with the beliefs of early Christians, implied by the
miracles narrated in the Apocryphal Gospels. " Coming into
India, the Apostle Bartholomew entered a temple, in which
was the idol Ashtaroth."* . . At the wish of the king, he

TD0L-W0RSI1IP AND FETICH-WORSHIP. 309

agrees to expel the demon, and next day engages in a dialogue
with him. . . . " Then the apostle commands him — ' If thou
dost not wish to be hurled into the abyss, come forth from
the image and break it, and go forth into the desert' "

The proofs, then, are many and conclusiva The savage,
thinking the effigy of the dead man is inhabited by his ghost,
propitiates it accordingly ; and aa the effigy of the dead man
develops into the idol of the god, the sacrifices to it are made
under a kindred belief in a spiritual resident,

§ 159. What degree of likeness to a human being suffice?
to suggest the presence of a human soul X These images the
savage makes are very rude. The carved post he sticks on a
grave, or the little stone figure he hangs round his neck
instead of an actual relic of a relative, resembles but remotely
a human being, and not at all the individual commemorated.
Still it suffices. And considering how easily" the primitive
mind, unchecked by scepticism, accepts the slightest sugges-
tion, we may expect that even smaller likenesses will suffice
A dead tree outstretching its remaining arms in a strange
way, or a rock of which the profile seen against the sky recalls
a face, will arouse the idea of a human inhabitant Merely
noting, however, that such accidental similarities aid in ex-
tending to various objects the notion of resident ghosts, let
ns observe the more potent causes of fetichistic beliefs.

In § 54 we saw how the discovery of plants and animals
imbedded in rock, prepares the mind to suspect animation
ill certain inanimate things. Here is a fossil shell; there
are the remains of a fish clianged into stone. If wood, retain-
ing all its fibrous appearance, may become flint, may not a
man also turn into this dense substance ? And if the dry,
hard body of a mummy may be entered by its soul — if a
wooden image may be so too ; may not souls be present in
petrified masses that look like parts of men ? See these bones
which have been dug up — heavy, stony, but in shape suffi-
ciently like human bones to deceive the savage ; as, in fact,

SlO TITC DAfA OF SOCIOLOGY.

such bones have, in past times, habitually deceived the

civilized, leading to stories of giant races* What is to be

thought of them ? Are they not, like other human remains,

frequented by the doubles to which they once belonged?

Will they not some day be re-animated ?

Be this or be it not the origin of reverence for stones,

this reverence is certainly in some cases accompanied by the

belief that they were once men, and that they will eventually

revive as men. Already I have named the fact that the

Laches " worshipped every stone as .a god, as they said that

they had ail been men." Arriaga says the Peruvians

"worship certain heights and mountains, and very large

stones . • . saying that they were once men." Avendano

argued with them thus : —

" Tour wise men say that of old in Purnrapaoha there were men, and
now we see with our own eyes that they are stones, or hills, or rocks, or
islands of the sea. * . . If these huacaa originally were men, and had a
father and mother, like ourselves, and then Contiviracocha has turned
them into stones, they are worthless.9

Such stones stand in the same relation to the inhabiting

ghosts that mummies do: witness Arriaga's statement that

the Marcayoc who is worshipped as the patron of the village,

" is sometimes a stone and sometimes a mummy." They

also stand in the same relation to ghosts that idols do:

witness the statement of Montesinos, that the Ynca Rocca

"caused to be thrown from the mountain [a certain idol].

. . . They say that a parrot flew out of it and entered

another stone, which is still shown in the valley. The

Indians have greatly honoured it since that time, and still

worship it." And this belief was definitely expressed when

in 1560, the native priests, describing the ancestral ghosts or

huacas as enraged with those who had become Christians,

said "the times of the Tncas would be restored, and the

huacas would not enter into stones or fountains to speak,

but would be incorporated in men whom they will cause

td speak." The Coast Negroes betray kindred ideas. In

some towns, when a person dies, a stone is taken to a certain

c«BRt^^M«!^

IDOL- WORSHIP AND FEnOH-WOBSHIP. 311

home provided; and among the Bulloms, certain women
M make occasional sacrifices and offerings of rice to the stones
which are preserved in memory of the dead They prostrate
themselves before these."

This last instance introduces t» to another mode in which
fetichistic conceptions arise. Already the practices of sor-
cerers have familiarized us with the primitive belief that
each person's nature inheres not only in all parts of his body,
bnt in his dress and the things he has used. Probably the
interpretation of odour has led to this belief. If the breath
is the spirit or other-self, is not this invisible emanation
which permeates a man's clothing, and by which he may be
traced, also a part of his other-self? Various derivations
show us this connexion of ideas. Perfume and fume coming
from a word applied to smoke or vapour, are thus brought
into relation with the visible vapour of breath. Exhalation
is that which breathes out of. In Latin, nidor was applicable
alike to a steam and a smell ; and the German duft, used for
a delicate odour, originally meant vapour. Just as we now
speak of the " breath of flowers " as equivalent to their fra-
grance; so, in early speech, did men associate smell with
expired air, which was identified with soul. Have we not, in-
deed, ourselves come to use the word spirit, similarly having
reference to breath, for the odorous steam which distils from
a thing; and may not the savage therefore naturally regard
the spirit as having entered that to which the odour clings ?
However this may be, we find proof that not dress only, but
even stones, are supposed to become permeated by this in-
visible emanation, existing either as breath or as odour.
When a noble died in Vera Paz, "the first thing they did
after his death was to put a precious stone in his mouth.
Others say that they did this, not after his death, but in his
last moments. The object of it was that the stone received
his soul" A kindred notion is implied by a practice of the
Mexicans, who, along with a man's remains, " put a gem of
more or less value, which they said would serve him in place

312 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

of a heart in the other world : " heart and soul being, with
sundry American peoples, convertible terms. Under another
form the idea meets ns among the New Zealanders.
Mr. White, who in Te Sou embodies many New Zealand
superstitions, narrates a discussion concerning the ghosts of
the dead, in which an old man says —

" Are not all things the offspring of the gods ? Is not the knmara
the god that hid himself from fear? Do you not eat the kumara?
Are not fish another god who went into the water 1 Do you eat fish ?
Are not the birds also gods ? Were not the gods spirits [£«., ghosts of
men] ? Then why are you not afraid of the things that you eat ? Any-
thing cooked sends the spirit into the stones on which they are cooked.
Then, why do old people eat out of a hangi, and off the stones which
hold the spirit of the food cooked on them ?n

Thus the original belief is that as a dead body, or a
mummy, or an effigy, may be entered by a spirit ; so, too,
may a shapeless stone. Adoration of inanimate objects thus
possessed by ghosts, is really adoration of the indwelling
ghosts; and the powers ascribed to such objects are the
powers ascribed to such ghosts.

§ 160. This notion, once established, develops in all direc-
tions. A ready explanation of everything remarkable is fur-
nished. When ghosts, accumulating and losing their once*
remembered individualities, are thought of as a multitude of
invisible beings — when they are here conceived as elbowing
the inhabitants of the house, there as swarming in the nooks
of the forests, elsewhere as so numerous that a thing cannot
be thrown aside without danger of hitting one ; it happens,
inevitably, that being always at hand they become the assigned
causes of unfamiliar occurrences. Instances are furnished by
every race.

In Africa the Bulloms regard with awe, as implying spirit*
agency, " whatever appears to them strange or uncommon."
By the Congo people, certain shells are called " God's
children ; " and the Negroes of Little Addoh (on the Niger),
astonished at the size of a European vessel, worshipped it*

IDOL- WORSHIP AND FETICH- WORSHIP. 313

The like holds in Polynesia. A sledge left by Cook or his
companions was worshipped by the natives. A cocoa-nut
tree in Fiji, which divided into two branches, " was conse-
quently regarded with great veneration." Similarly in
America. Supernaturalness is alleged of " anything which a
Dakotah cannot comprehend;" and by the Mandans all
unusual things are deemed supernatural. If the Chippewas
"do not understand anything, they immediately say, it is a
spirit ; " and the same notion was dominant among the ancient
Peruvians, who "did worship all things in nature which
seemed to them remarkable and different from the rest, as
acknowledging some particular deitie."

Thus the unusualness which makes an object a fetich, is
supposed to imply an indwelling ghost — an agent without
which deviation from the ordinary would be inexplicable:
There is no tendency gratuitously to ascribe duality of
nature ; but only when there is an unfamiliar appearance, or
motion, or sound, or change, in a thing, does there arise this
idea of a possessing spirit The Chibchas worshipped " at
lakes, rivulets, rocks, hills, and other places of striking or
unusual aspect:" saying that by certain occurrences "the
demon had given a sign that they should worship him at
such places." The implication here so manifest, that one of
the haunting invisible beings is the object of adoration, is
again shown us by the Hindus. Sir A. C. Lyall, though he
thinks that their fetichism has become a kind of Pantheism,
so states the results of his Indian experiences that they per-
fectly harmonize with the interpretation here given. He says—

"It is not difficult to perceive how this original downright adoration
of queer-looking objects 10 modified by passing into the higher order of
imaginative superstition. First! the stone is the abode of some spirit*;
its carious shape or situation betraying possession. Next, this strange
form or aspect argues some design, or handiwork, of supernatural
beings,9 etc,

So that indirect evidences from all sides, converge to the
-conclusion that the fetich-worship is the worship of a special
soul supposed to have taken up its abode in the fetich ; which

814 THE DATA OP 80CI0L0GY.

soul, in common with supernatural agents at large, is origin-
ally the doable of a dead man.

§ 161. But we need not rest with indirect evidence of this.
Direct evidence is abundant.

Many pages back, facts were given showing that origin-
ally the fetich is nothing but the ghost. While, in § 58, we
saw that the Abipones, fearing the ghost, thought " the echo
was its voice ;" we saw that the African, when asked why he
made an offering to the echo, answered — " Did you not hear
the fetish T* In East Africa the fetich-huts have food and
beer placed in them " to propitiate the ghosts." The Coast
Negroes who, worshipping the dead, perform " pilgrimages to
their graves to make oblations and sacrifices" — who mould
clay figures of their departed cliiefs — who sometimes have
tubes leading down to the buried corpses, through which they
daily pour libations ; show us by various associated obser-
vances, that the fetich is the residence of the ghost. The
natives round Sierra Leone " seldom or never drink spirits,
wine, etc., without spilling a little of it upon the ground, and
wetting the greegree or fetish ;" Cruikshank mentions certain
foods abstained from according to the direction of the fetich ;
Bastian names a fetich-man who used ventriloquism in an-
nouncing the oracles ; — facts all implying notions like those
which elsewhere go along with ghost-worship. Speaking of
a village on the Niger where the fetich was a carved image,
Lander says — " We were desired to roast our bullock under
him, that he might enjoy the savoury smelL" And in
Dahomey "the roads, villages, and houses are filled with
fetich-images and sacrifices to the fetich." Whether the
fetich is a bundle of things belonging to a relative who has
died, or an effigy of this deceased person, or an idol that has
lost historic individuality, or some other object, the resident
spirit is nothing but a modification of an ancestral ghost,
deviating more or less according to circumstances. The

IDOL-WORSHIP AND FBTICH-WOltSHIP. 315

certainty of this conclusion is beet shown by the summarized

statement Beecham makes.

"The fetiche* are believed to be spiritual, intelligent beings, who
make the remarkable objects of nature their residence, or enter occa-
sionally into the images and other artificial representations, which have
been duly consecrated by certain ceremonies. It is the belief of the
people that the fetiches not nnfrequently render themselves visible to
mortals* . . . They believe that these fetiches are of both sexes, and
that they require food."

And if this occasional visibility, this need for food, and this
difference of sex, are not enough to show the original human
nature of the fetich, it is conclusively shown bj the following
statement of Bastian about the Congo people.

"The natives say that the great fetich of Bamba lives in the interior
of the bosh, where no man sees him, or can see him. When he dies, the
f etich-priests carefully collect his bones, in order to revive them, and
nourish them till they again acquire flesh and blood.9

So that the fetich, besides otherwise corresponding to the
ghost, corresponds as being expected to resume, in like
manner, the original bodily form.

§ 162. We will now draw a corollary from this interpre-
tation of f etichism, and observe how completely it harmonizes
with the facts.

Evidence has been given that sundry low types of men
have either no ideas of revival after death, or vague and
wavering ideas: the conception of a ghost is undeveloped.
If, as contended above, the worship of the fetich is the
worship of an indwelling ghost, or a supernatural being
derived from the ghost ; it follows that the fetich-theory,
being dependent on the ghost-theory, must succeed it in
order of time. Absent where there is no ghost-theory,
fetichism will arise after the ghost-theory has arisen. That
it does this, proofs are abundant

Of the Indian Hill-tribes may be named, as about the
owest known, the Juangs, who, with no word for a super-
natural being, with no idea CI another life, with no ances-

316 TAB DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

tor-worship, have also no fetichism: an accompanying
absence of witchcraft being also noteworthy. The Anda-
man Islanders, classed with the most degraded of mankind,
who are without a " notion of their own origin/' and without
a notion "of a future existence/' are also without fetichism :
such, at least, is the conclusion we may draw from the silence
of those who describe them. Of the Fuegians, too, among
whom no appearances of religion were found by Cook, no
fetichism is alleged. Nor have those very inferior savages
the Australians, though they believe in ghosts, reached the
stage at which the ghost-theory originates this derivative
theory : they do not propitiate inanimate objects. Their now-
extinct neighbours, too, the Tasmanians, like them in grade,
were like them in this. And even the Veddahs, who, tliink-
ing the souls of their relatives are everywhere around, have
a dominant ancestor-worship, but whose intelligence and
social state are extremely low, do not show us this exten-
sion of the ghost-theory.

The implications of a doctrine do not occur to the utterly
stupid ; but they become obvious to those who begin to think.
Hence, in proportion as the reasoning faculty is good, will
be the number of erroneous conclusions drawn from erro-
neous premises. As was pointed out in §§ 57 and 96, it
is not savages devoid of intelligence, but highly intelli-
gent savages, such as the Fijians, who believe that a man
has two souls, his shadow and his reflection; and who
accept the inference that, as objects have shadows, they too
must have souls. The various African oples

even taken by themselves, suffice to show that fetichismy
arises only when a certain stage of mental and social evolu-
tion has been reached. No fetichism is alleged of the
Bushmen ; and of the African races whose state is known to
us, the Bushmen are the lowest The Damaras, among
whom, according to Andersson, intelligence is " an unusual
phenomenon/' and whose stupidity Galton exemplifies so

IDOL- WORSHIP AND FfflTCH-WOftSHIP. 317

vividly, have not drawn from their feebly-marked ghost*
beliefs the inferences whence fetichism arises: Galton says
—"of the fetish superstition there is no trace." But
fetichism meets us among the more advanced African races
— the Congo people, the Inland Negroes, the Coast Ne-
groes, the Dahomans, the Ashantees.. We find it rampant
where there are fortified towns, well-organized governments,
large standing armies, prisons, police, and sumptuary laws,
considerable division of labour, periodical markets, regular
shops, and all the appliances showing some progress in
civilization. Still more conspicuously is this rela-

tion exhibited in America. We do not read of fetichism
among the rude Chirihuanas of ancient Peru; but among
the civilized Peruvians it was immensely elaborated. Both
before and after the Ynca conquest, "they worshipped
herbs, plants, flowers, all kinds of trees, high hills, great
rocks, and the chinks in them, hollow caves, pebbles, and
small stones of different colours." And then, if

we ask where fetichism has culminated, we are referred to
a people whose civilization, older in date than our own, has
created vast cities, elaborate industries, a highly-structured
language, great poems, subtle philosophies. In India,

" A woman adores the basket which serves to bring or to hold her
necessaries, and offers sacrifices to it ; as well as to the rice-mill, and
other implements that assist her in her household labours. A carpenter
does the like homage to his hatchet, his adze, and other tools ; and like-
wise offers sacrifices to them. A Brahman does so to the style with
which he is going to write ; a soldier to the arms he is to use in the
field ; a mason to his trowel"

And this statement of Dubois, quoted by Sir John Lubbock,
coincides with that of Sir A. C. Lyall, who says — " Not only
does the husbandman pray to his plough, the fisher to his
net, the weaver to his loom ; but the scribe adores his pen,
and the banker his account-books."

How untenable is the idea that fetichism comes first among
superstitions, will now be manifest Suppose the facts re-

318 THS DATA 09 SOCIOLOGY.

versed Suppose that by Juings, Andamanese, Firegians,
Australians, Tasmanians, and Bushmen, the worship of inani-
mate objects was earned to the greatest extent; that among
tribes a little advanced i* intelligence and social state, it was
somewhat restricted ; that it went on decreasing as know-
ledge and civilization increased ; and that in highly-developed
societies, such as those of ancient Peru and modern India, it
became inconspicuous. Should we not say that the state-
ment was conclusively proved ? Clearly, then, as the facts
happen to be exactly the opposite, the statement is conclu-
sively disproved.

§ 163. Induction having shown the untruth of this current
dogma, we are now prepared for seeing how entirely de-
duction discredits it

Made on the strength of evidence given by early travellers,
whose contact was chiefly with races partially advanced and
even semi-civilized, the assertion that fetichism is primordial
gained possession of men's minds ; and prepossession being
nine points of belief, it has held its ground with scarcely a
question. I had myself accepted it ; though, as I remember,
with some vague dissatisfaction, probably arising from in-
ability to see how so strange an interpretation arose. This
vague dissatisfaction passed into scepticism on becoming
better acquainted with the ideas of savages. Tabulated facts
presented by the lowest races, changed scepticism into dis-
belief ; and thought has made it manifest that the statement*
disproved a posteriori, is contrary to a priori probability.

In the chapter on "The Ideas of the Animate and
Inanimate," it was shown that progressing intelligence
gives increasing power to discriminate the living from the
not-living ; that the higher animals rarely confound the one
with the other; and that to suppose the animal which is
far above the rest in sagacity, gratuitously confuses the two,
is unwarrantable. Were the fetichistic conception primordial,
it would be possible to show how the evolution of thought

IDOL-WORSHIP AND FETICH-WORSHIP. 819

naoesaitated its antecedence ; whereas this, bo far as I see, is
impossible. Consider the mind of the savage as delineated
in foregoing chapters — unspeculative, uncritical, incapable
ef generalizing, and with scarcely any notions save those
yielded by the perceptions. Ask what could lead him to
think of an inanimate object as having in it some existence
besides that which his senses acquaint him with ? He has
no words for separate properties, much less a word for pro-
perty in general ; and if he cannot even conceive a property
apart from an aggregate displaying it, how can he imagine a
second invisible entity as causing the actions of the visible
entity ? He has neither that tendency to think which must
precede such a conception, nor has he the mental power
required to grasp such a conception. Only as the ghost-
theory evolves, does there arise, when circumstances suggest
it, this idea of an animate agent in an inanimate object I
say advisedly — when circumstances suggest it; for at first he
does not gratuitously assume spiritual possession. Some-
thing anomalous is requisite to suggest the presence of a
spirit. And if afterwards, in higher stages of progress, he
extends such interpretations, and thinks of multitudinous
things as possessed, the antecedent is an accumulation of
ghosts and derived spirits swarming everywhere.

That fetiehism is a sequence of the ghost-theory might,
indeed, be suspected from the evidence which our own
people have furnished, and still furnish. I do not specially
refer to the still extant doctrine of the real presence; nor
to the belief implied by the obsolete practice of exorcising
the water used in baptism; nor to the conceptions of those
who in past times thought objects which behaved strangely
were " possessed," though they did not assume possession to
account for the ordinary powers of objects. I refer chiefly to
the evidence which modern spiritualists yield us. If tables
turn and chairs move about without visible agency, spirits
are the assumed agents. In presence of some action not
understood, there is a revival of the fetichistic interprets

320 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY*.

tion : the cause is a supernatural being, and this supernatural
being is a ghost

§ 164 Propitiation of the dead, which, originating funeral
rites, develops into the observances constituting worship in
general, has thus, among its other divergent results, idoK
worship and fetich-worship. All stages in the genesis of
these are traceable.

There are sacrifices to the recently-dead body, to the dried
body or mummy, to the relics; there are sacrifices to a
figure made partly of the relics and partly of other sub-
stances; there are sacrifices to a figure placed on a box
containing the felics ; there are sacrifices to a figure placed
on the grave containing the remains. And as thus com-
bined, the remains and the representative figure have been
in kindred ways worshipped by civilized races — Egyptians,
Etruscans, Romans, down to mediaeval Christians ; for does
not the adored figure of a saint above his tomb, undeniably
correspond to the carved effigy which the savage places on a
grave and propitiates? That this representative

image of the dead man grows into the idol of the deity, we
have good evidence. Persistent for various periods, the wor-
ship becomes in some cases permanent ; and then constitutes
the idolatry of the savage, which evolves into elaborate
religious ceremonies performed before awe-inspiring statues
in magnificent temples. Further, from the primi-

tive notion that along with likeness in aspect there goes
likeness in nature, comes a belief that the effigy is inhabited
by the ghost ; and from this there descends the notion that
deities enter idols and occasionally speak from them.

Between idol-worship and fetich-worship there is no
break. In Africa the visible fetich is often a man-shaped
figure, sometimes a figure less like a man, resembling
u nothing so much as one of our scare-crows;" and some-
times a thing human only in its connexions, having the
character of an amulet: the faith in which, as we saw

IDOL-WOKSIIIP AND FETiCH-WOKSHlP. 321

(§ 133), grows from a faith in relics, and therefore arises
from the ghost-theory. That the worship of things

which are strange in size, shape, aspect, or behaviour, is
derivative, and goes along with belief in the presence of a
spirit originally human, facts make clear. This extension
accompanies growth and elaboration of the ghost-theory —
occurs where ghosts are supposed to be ever-present causes
of diseases, cures, accidents, benefits, etc. ; and exhibits the
unchecked application of an hypothesis which seems to
explain everything. Beliefs thus originating are

aided by the idea that shadows are souls. As we before
saw (§ 96), this idea into which primitive men are naturally
betrayed, they extend to other shadows than those cast by
their own bodies. Gradually reason forces this implication
on them; and acceptance of it strengthens those concep-
tions of object-souls otherwise reached. Proof
that the thing worshipped in the remarkable object is a
ghost, is in some cases joined with proof that it is an
ancestral ghost The huacas of the Peruvians were their
forefathers. Garcilasso says " an Indian is not looked upon
as honourable unless he is descended from a fountain, river,
or lake (or even the sea) ; or from a wild animal, such as a
bear, lion, tiger, eagle, or the bird they call cunttir [condor],
or some other bird of prey; or from a mountain, cave, or
forest;" and these huacas whence they descended, they
worshipped

That idolatry and fetichism are aberrant developments of
ancestor-worship, thus made sufficiently clear, will become
clearer still on passing to the kindred groups of facts which
now follow.

CHAPTEH XXII.

ANIMAL-WORSHIP.

§ 165. In the chapter on "Primitive Ideas," it was
pointed out that in the animal kingdom the metamorphoses
which actually occur, are, at first sight, more marvellous
than many which are wrongly supposed to occur — that the
contrasts between a maggot and a fly, an egg and a bird,
are greater than the contrasts between a child and a dog, a
man and a bull

Encouraged, then, by the changes he daily sees, and not
deterred by such cognitions as long-accumulating experiences
establish, the savage yields to any suggestion, however
caused, that a creature has assumed a different shape. In
some cases the supposed change is from one of the lower
animals into another; as in Brazil, where, Burton says, "the
people universally believe that the humming-bird is trans-
mutable into the humming-bird hawk-moth." But mostly,
the transformations are of men into animals, or of animals
into men.

All races furnish evidence. We will first take a number of
examples, and then consider the interpretations.

§ 166. The belief that human beings disguise themselves
as brutes, is in some cases specified generally; as concern-
ing the Thlinkeets, who " will kill a bear only in case of great
necessity, for the bear is supposed to be a man that has taken

r

ANIMAL-WORSHIIV 323

the shape of an animal" And the converse idea in its general
form occurs among the Karens, who think "the waters are
inhabited by beings whose proper form is that of dragons
[? crocodiles], but that occasionally appear as men, and who
take wives of the- children of men/' Usually, however, only
persons, distinguished' by power of some kind, or believed to
be so, have this -ability ascribed to them.

Regarding all special skill as supernatural, sundry African
peoples think* the blacksmith (who ranks next to the medi-
cine-man) works by spirit-agency ; and in Abyssinia, w black-
smiths are supposed able to turn themselves into hyaenas and
other animals." So strong is this belief that it infects even
European; residents: Wilkinson instances a traveller who
asserted that he had seen the metamorphosis. More

commonly it is the sorcerers exclusively of whom this power
is alleged. The Khonds believe "witches have the faculty
of transforming themselves into tigers." In case of "an alli-
gator seizing upom a child whilst bathing in the river, or a
hopard carrying off a goat/* the Bulloms "are of opinion
that it is not a real leopard or alligator which has committed
the depredation,, but a witch under one of these assumed
forms.1* Among the Mexicans "there were sorcerers and
witches who were thought to- transform themselves into
animals." In Honduras they " punished sorcerers that did
mischief; and some of them are said to have ranged on the
mountains like tigers or lions, killing men, till they wire
token and hanged.19 And the Chibchas " pretended to have
great sorcerers who might be transformed into lions, bears,
and tigers, and devour men like these animals/' To

chiefs, as well as to sorcerers, this faculty is in some places
ascribed. The Cacique Thomagata, one of the Chibcha rulers,
was believed " to have had a long tail, after the manner of a
lion or a tiger, which he dragged on the soiL" Africa, too,
yields evidence.

"There are also a great many lions and hyeenas, and there is no
check upon the increase of the former, for the people, believing that the
•oak of their chiefs enter into them, never attempt to kill them ; they

Y 2

324 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

even believe that a chief may metamorphose himself into a lion, kill
any one he chooses, and then return to the human form ; therefore,
when they see one they commence clapping their hands, which is the
usual mode of salutation.1'

In some cases this supposed power is shared by the chiefs

relatives. Schweinfurth, when at Gallabat, having shot a

hyaena, was reproached by the sheikh because his, the sheikh's,

mother, was a "hyaena-woman."

Instead of change of .form there is, in other cases, posses-
sion. We saw how the primitive dream-theory, with its
wandering double which deserts the body and re-enters it,
brings, among many sequences, the belief that wandering
doubles can enter other bodies than their own ; and the last
chapter exhibited some wide extensions of this doctrine : repre-
sentative figures, and even inanimate objects not having
human shapes, being supposed permeable by human ghosts.
Naturally, then, animals are included among the things men's
souls go into. At Tete, in Africa, the people believe " that
while persons are still living they may enter into lions and
alligators, and then return again to their own bodies f and
the Guiana tribes think some jaguars " are possessed by the
spirits of men."

Of course, along with beliefs in possession by the doubles
of living persons, there go beliefs in possession by the
doubles of dead persons. The Sumatrans imagine that —

" tigers in general are actuated with the spirits of departed men, and no
consideration will prevail on a countryman to catch or to wound one,
but in self-defence, or immediately after the act of destroying a friend."

Among existing American races, the Apaches "hold that

every rattlesnake contains the soul of a bad man or is an

emissary of the Evil Spirit ; " and " the Californians round

San Diego will not eat the flesh of large game, believing such

animals are inhabited by the souls of generations of people

that have died ages ago : ' eater of venison ! ' is a term of

reproach among them." With the ancient American races it

was the same. Here is one out of many instances.

" The people of Tlascala believed that the souls n£ persons of rank

i

ANIMAL-WORSHIP. 325

vent! after their death, to inhabit the bodies of beautiful and sweet
singing birds, and those of the nobler quadrupeds ; while the souls of
inferior perrons were supposed to pass into weazles, beetles,1' etc.

There are like beliefs among Africans. When Hutchinson
doubted the assertion that men's souls pass into monkeys
and crocodiles, he was answered — " It be Kalabar ' fash/ and
white man no saby any ting about it "

Passing over various developments of this general notion
which early civilizations show us, such as the Scripture
story of the expelled devils who entered into swine, and the
were- wolf legends of the middle ages; let us turn to the
interpretations. We have seen that his experiences prepare
the savage for supposing metamorphoses, if circumstances
suggest them; but we must not assume him1 to suppose
them without suggestive circumstances. What, then, are
these ? We shall find three kinds ; leading to three groups
of allied, but partially-different, beliefs.

§ 167. u There are Amatongo who are snakes," say the
Zulus ; and, as we have repeatedly seen, Amatongo is their
name for ancestral ghosts. But why do these people think
that snakes are transformed ancestors ? Some extracts from
Bp. Callaway's cross-examination, I place in an order which
will prepare the reader for the answer.

"The snakes into which men turn are not many; they are distinct
and well known. They are the black Imamba, and the green Imamba,
which is called Inyandezulu. Chiefs turn into these. Common people
turn into the UmthlwazL"

M These snakes are known to be human beings when they enter a
hut; they do not usually enter by the doorway. Perhaps they enter
when no one is there, and go to the upper part of the hut, and stay
there coiled up."

" If the snake has a scar on the side, some one who knew a certain
dead man of that place who also had such a scar, comes forward and
Biys, ' It is So-and-so. Do you not see the scar on his side) ' It is left
alone, and they go to sleep."

** Those which are men are known by their frequenting huts, and by
their not eating mice, and by their not being frightened at the noise of
men."

32<> THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY

Now join with these statements the facts set forth in
§§ 110, 137, and the genesis of this belief becomes manifest.
All over the world there prevails the idea that the ghost of
the dead man haunts .the old home. What, then, is meant
by the coming of these snakes into the huts? Are they not
returned relations ? Do not the individual marks they some-
times bear yield proof? Just as an Australian settler who
had a bent arm, was concluded to be the other-self of a dead
native who had a bent arm (§ 92) ; so here, the scar common
to the man and the snake proves identity. When, therefore,
the Zulus say — " Neither does a snake that is an Itongo
excite fear in men. . . . When men see it, it is as though it
said as they look at it, ' Be not afraid It is I ' ;" we are
shown that recognition of the snake as a human being, come
back in another shape, is suggested by several circumstances :
frequentation of the house being the chief. This

recognition is utilized and confirmed by 'the diviners. Some
persons who, through them, sought supernatural aid, remarked
— " We wondered that we should continually hear the spirits,
which we could not see, speaking in .the wattles, and telling
us many things without our seeing them/' Elsewhere
a man says — "The voice was like that of a very little
child ; it cannot speak aloud, for it speaks above, among the
wattles ' of the hut/1 The trick is obvious. Practising ven-
triloquism, the diviner makes the replies of the ancestral
ghost seem to come from places in which these house-haunting
snakes conceal themselves.

Though most men are supposed to turn into the harmless
snakes which frequent huts, some turn into the "imamba
which frequents open places/' " The imamba is said especially
to be chiefs ; " it is "a poisonous snake/' and has^ " the stare
of an enemy, which makes one afraid." Whence it appears
that as special bodily marks suggest identity with persons
who bore kindred marks, so traits of character in snakes of a
certain species, lead to identification with a class of persona.

ANIMAL-WOBSHIP. 327

This conclusion we ahall presently find verified by facts
oaming from another place in Africa

Among the Amazulu, belief in the return of ancestors
disguised as serpents, has not led to worship of serpents as
such: propitiation of them is mingled with propitiation of
ancestral ghosts in an indefinite way. Other peoples, too,
present us with kindred ideas, probably generated in like
manner, which have not assumed distinctly religious forms ;
as witness the fact that * in the province of Culiacan tamed
serpents were found in the dwellings of the natives, which
they feared and venerated." But, carrying with us the clue
thus given, we find that along with a developed cult and
advanced arts, a definite serpent-worship results. Ophiolatry
prevails especially in iot countries ; and in hot countries
certain kinds of ophidia secrete themselves in dark corners of
rooms, and even in beds. India supplies us with a clear case.
Serpent-gods ate there common ; and the serpent habitually
sculptured as a god, is the cobra. Either in its natural form
or united to a human body, the cobra with expanded hood in
attitude to strike, is adored in numerous temples. And then,
en inquiry, we learn that the cobra is one of the commonest
intruders in houses. Yet another instance is furnished by
the Egyptian asp, a species of cobra. Figuring everywhere
as this does in their sacred paintings and sculptures, we find
that, greatly reverenced throughout Egypt, it was a fre-
quenter of gardens and houses, and was so far domesticated
that it came at a signal to be fed from the table.*

• Since writing the above I hare re-read Mr. M'Lennan's essay on Ammal-
>, and is it find a fact which confirms my view. I hare italicised the
: — " To rapport the superstition there are two articles in tho
treaty made and sanctioned by Her Britannic Majesty's Consul for the Bight
of Biafra and the Island of Fernando Fo, on November 17, 1866, one of
which rani thus :~( Article 13. That long detention having heretofore
occurred in trade, and much angry feeliug haying been excited in the natires
from the destruction by white men, in their ignorance, of a certain species of
boa-constrictor that visit* the houses, and which is ju-ju, or sacred, to the
Brassmen, it is hereby forbidden to all British subjects to harm or destroy
any such snake."'

328 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

The like happens with other house-haunting creatures. In
many countries lizards are often found indoors; and among
the Amazulu, the " Isalukazana, a kind of lizard/' is the form
supposed to be taken by old women. The New Zealandeis
believe that the spirits of their ancestors re-visit them as
lizards; and I learn from a colonist that these are lizards
which enter houses. Certain Russian foresters, again,
"cherish, as a kind of household gods, a species of reptile,
which has four short feet like a lizard, with a black flat
body. . . . These animals are called ' givoites/ and on certain
days are allowed to crawl about the house in search of the
food which is placed for them. They are looked upon with
great superstition." Thsn, too, we have the wasp,

which is one of the animal-shapes supposed to be assumed
by the dead among the Amazulu ; and the wasp is an insect
which often joins the domestic circle to share the food on the
table. Alongside this belief I may place a curious passage
from the flood-legend of the Babylonians. Hasisadra, describ-
ing his sacrifice after the deluge, says — * The gods collected
at its burning, the gods collected at its good burning ; the
gods, like flies, over the sacrifice gathered." Onee

more, of house-haunting creatures similarly regarded, we have
the dove. Describing animal-worship among the ancients,
Mr. M'Lennan remarks that "the dove, in fact . . . was
almost as great a god as the serpent" The still-extant
symbolism of Christianity shows us the surviving effect of
this belief in the ghostly character of the dove.

§ 168. By most peoples the ghost is believed now to re-visit
the old home, and now to be where the body lies. If, then,
creatures which frequent houses are supposed to be metamor-
phosed ancestors, will not creatures habitually found with
corpses be also considered as animal-forms assumed by the
dead ? That they will, we may conclude ; and that they are,
we have proofs.

The prevalence of cave-burial among early peoples every-

ANTMAL-WORSHIP. 329

where, has been shown. What animals commonly occur in
caves ? Above all others, those which shun the light — bats
and owls. Where there are no hollow trees, crevices and
caverns are the most available places for these night-flying
creatures ; and often in such places they are numerous. An
explorer of the Egyptian cave known from its embalmed
contents as " Crocodilopolis," tells me that he was nearly
suffocated with the dust raised by bats, the swarms of which
nearly put out the torches. Now join with these statements
the following passage from the Izdubar legend translated by

Mr. Smith : —

" Return me from Hades, the land of my knowledge ; from the house
of the departed, the seat of the god Irkalla ; from the house within
which is no exit; from the road the course of which never returns;
from the place within which they long for light — the place where dust
is their nourishment and their food mud. Its chiefs also, like birds,
are clothed with wings."

In Mr. Talbot's rendering of the legend of the descent of
Ishtar, Hades, described as "a cavern of great rocks/' is
again said to be " the abode of darkness and famine, where
earth is their food : their nourishment clay : light is not seen :
in darkness they dwell : ghosts, like birds, flutter their wings."
Amid minor differences, the agreement respecting the cavern-
ous nature of the place, its gloom, its lack of food, its dust,
and the winged structure of its inhabitants, clearly points
to the development of the burial-cave with its tenanting
creatures, into Hades with its inhabiting spirits. In the
same way that, as we before saw, Sheol, primarily a cave,
expanded into an under-world ; so here we see that the
winged creatures habitually found along with the corpses in
the cave, and supposed to be the transformed dead, originated
the winged ghosts who inhabit the under-world. Verification
is yielded by an already-quoted passage from the Bible, in
which sorcerers are said to chirp like bats when consulting
the dead : the explanation being that their arts, akin to those
of the Zulu diviners lately named, had a like aim. The ven-
triloquists, says Delitzsch, "imitated the chirping of bats,

S30 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

which was supposed to proceed from the shades of Hades."
Further verification comes to us from the legends of the
Greeks. The spirits of the dead are said in the Odyssey to
twitter like bats and clamour " as it were fowls flying every
way in fear." The far East yields confirmatory evidence. In
past times the Philippine Islanders had the ideas and customs
of ancestor- worship highly developed ; and they buried in
caves, which were held sacred. Mr. Jagor narrates his visit
to a cavern "tenanted by multitudes of bats." The few
natives who dared enter, " were in a state of great agitation,
and were careful first to enjoin upon each other the respect
to be observed by them towards Calapnitan" — literally " lord
of the bats."

The experience that bats are commonly found m caves,
while owls more generally frequent the dark corners of
deserted houses, may have tended to differentiate the asso-
ciated conceptions. " Mother of rains " is an Arabian name
for the owl. Mr. Talbot, in translations embodying the reli-
gious beliefs of the Assyrians, has the following prayer uttered
on a man's death: — " like a bird may it [the soul] fly to a
lofty place I " With this we may join the fact that, in com-
mon with modern Arabs, their ancient kindred preferred to
bury in high places. We may also join with it the following
passage from M. Gaussin de Perceval : —

" In their opinion the soul, when leaving the body, fled away in the
form of a bird which they called Hdnxa or Soda (a sort of owl), and
did not cease flying round the tomb and crying pitifully."

The Egyptians also, along with familiar knowledge of
these cave-hiding and ruin-haunting creatures, had a belief
in winged souls. One of their wall-paintings given by
Wilkinson, represents, over the face of a corpse, a human-
headed bird about to fly away, carrying with it the sign of
life and the symbol of transmigration. Moreover, on their
mummy cases they figured either a bird with out-stretched
wings, or such a bird with a human head, or a winged
symbol Thus it seems likely that by them, too, the crea-

ANIMAL-WORSHIP. 331

tores often found in the places of the dead were supposed to
be forms assumed by the dead

Possibly these ancient peoples had not enough knowledge
of insect metamorphoses to be struck by the illusive analogy
on which modern theologians dwell; but, if they observed
them, one kind must have seemed to furnish a complete,
parallel. I refer to that of various moths : the larva buries
itself in the earth, and after a time there is found near the
chrysalis-case a winged creature. Why, then, should not the
winged creature found along with the human body which has
been buried in a cave, be concluded to have come out of it ?*

§ 169. Before dealing with supposed transformations of a
third kind, like the above as identifying animals with de-
ceased men, but unlike them as being otherwise suggested,
two explanatory descriptions are needed: one of primitive
language and the other of primitive naming.

The savage has a small vocabulary. Consequently of, the
things and acts around, either but few can have signs, or
those signs must be indiscriminately applicable to diiferent
things and acts: whence inevitable misunderstandings. If,
as Burton says of the Dacotahs, " colours are expressed by a
comparison with some object in sight/' an intended assertion
about a colour must often be taken for an assertion about
the illustrative object. If, as Sehweinfurth tells us of the
Bongo dialect, one word means either * shadow* or " cloud,"
another "rain" or " the sky," another " night" or * to-day ;"
the interpretations of statements must be in part guessed at,
and the guesses must often be wrong. Indefinite-

ness, implied by this paucity of words, is further implied by

• A*, originally, ghost* were indiscriminately spoken of as gods, demons,
angels; and as the differentiation which eventually arose was naturally
accompanied by specialised beliefs respecting these flying forms assumed
by them ; it seams not improbable that while from the owl with its feathered
wingi, living an the upper air, came the conception of the good spirit or angel,
there came from the bat with its membranous wings, inhabiting under-
ground places, the conception of the bad spirit or deril.

332 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

the want of terms expressing degree. A Damara cannot
understand the question whether of two stages the next is
longer than the last The question must be — "The last
stage is little ; the next, is it great ?" and the only reply is —
" It is so/' or " It is not so." In some cases, as among the
Abipones, superlatives are expressed by raising the voice.
And then the uncertainties of meaning which such indefinite-
nesses cause, are made greater by the rapid changes in primi-
tive dialects. Superstitions lead to frequent substitutions of
new words for those previously in use ; and hence statements
current in one generation, otherwise expressed in the next,
are misconstrued. Incoherence adds to the con-

fusion. In the aboriginal languages of South Brazil, " there
are no such things as declensions and conjugations, and still
less a regular construction of the sentences. They always
speak in the infinitive, with, or mostly without, pronouns or
substantives. The accent, which is chiefly on the second
syllable, the slowness or quickness of pronunciation, certain
signs with the hand, the mouth, or other gestures, are neces-
sary to complete the sense of the sentence. If the Indian,
for instance, means to say, ' I will go into the wood/ he says
' Wood-go:1 pushing out his mouth to indicate the quarter
which he intends to visit" Clearly, no propositions that
involve even moderate degrees of discrimination, can be com-
municated by such people. The relative homo-
geneity of early speech, thus implied by the absence of
modifying terminations to words or the auxiliaries serving
in place of them, is further implied by the absence of
general and abstract words. Even the first grades of
generality and abstractness are inexpressible. Both the
Abipones and the Guaranis "want the verb substantive to
be. They want the verb to have. They have no words
whereby to express man, body, God, place, time, never, ever,
everywhere/' Similarly, the Koossa language has " no proper
article, no auxiliary verbs, no inflections either of their verbs

ANIMAL-WORSHIP. 333

or substantives. . • . The simple abstract proposition, / am,
cannot be expressed in their language."

Having these a posteriori verifications of the a priori
inference, that early speech is meagre, incoherent, indefi-
nite, we may anticipate countless erroneous beliefs caused
by misapprehensions. Dobrizhoffer says that among the
Guaranis, " Aba eke has three meanings — I am a Guarani,
I am a man, or I am a husband; which of these is meant
must be gathered from the tenor of the conversation." On
asking ourselves what will happen with traditions narrated
in such speech, we must answer that the distortions will be
extreme and multitudinous.

§ 170. Proper names were not always possessed by men :
they ore growths. It never occurred to the uninventive
savage to distinguish this person from that by vocal marks.
An individual was at first signified by something connected
with him, which, when mentioned, called him to mind — an
incident, a juxta-position, a personal trait.

A descriptive name is commonly assumed to be the earliest.
We suppose that just as objects and places in our own
island acquired their names by the establishment of what was
originally an impromptu description ; so, names of savages,
such as " Broad face," " Head without hair," « Curly head,"
M Horse-tail," are the significant sobriquets with which naming
begins. But it is not so. Under pressure of the need for
indicating a child while yet it has no peculiarities, it is re-
ferred to in connexion with some circumstance attending its
birth. The Lower Murray Australians derive their names
either from some trivial occurrence, from the spot where they
were born, or from a natural object seen by the mother soon
after the birth of the child. This is typical. Damara
M children are named after great public incidents." "Most
Bodo and Dhimals bear meaningless designations, or any
passing event of the moment may suggest a significant term."

334 TI1E DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

The name given to a Kaffir child soon after birth, * usually
refers to some circumstance connected with that event, or
happening about the same time." Among the Comanches,
" the children are named from some circumstance in tender
years ; " and the names of the Chippewayan boys are " gene-
rally derived from some place, season, or animal" Even with
so superior a type as the Bedouins, the like happens: "a
name is given to the infant immediately on his birth. The
name is derived from some trifling accident, or from some
object which has struck the fancy of the mother or any of
the women present at the child's birth. Thus, if the dog
happened to be near on this occasion, the infant is probably
named Kdab (from Kelb, a dog)."

This vague mode of identification, which arises first in the
history of the race, and long survives as a birth-naming, is
by-and-by habitually followed by a re-naming of a more
specific kind : a personal trait that becomes decided in the
course of growth, a strange accident, or a remarkable achieve-
ment, furnishing the second name. Among the peoples
above mentioned, the Comanches, the Damaras, the Kaffirs
illustrate ^this. Speaking of the Kaffirs, Mann says — "Thus
' Umgodi * is simply ' the boy who was born in a hole.' That
is a birth name. ' Umginqisago ' is ' the hunter who made
the game roll over.' That is a name of renown." Omitting
multitudinous illustrations, let us note some which imme-
diately concern u& . Of the additional names
gained by the Tupis after successes in battle, we read —
" They selected their appellations from visible objects, pride
or ferocity influencing their choice:" whence obviously
results naming after savage animals. Among animal-names
used by the Karens are — ' Tiger,' ' Yellow-Tiger,' ' Fierce-
Tiger/ f Gaur,' * Goat-antelope,' • Horn-bill,' ' Heron,' ' Prince-
bird,1 and ' Mango-fish : ' the preference for the formidable
beast being obvious. In New Zealand a native swift of foot
is called ' Kawaw,' a bird or fowl ; and the Dacotah women
have such names as the c White Martin/ the ' Young Mink/

ANIMAL-WORSHIP. 335:

the ' Musk-rat's Paw/ All aver the world this nicknaming
after animals is habitual. Lander speaks of it among the Toru-
bans ; Thunbeig, among the Hottentots ; and that it prevails
throughout North America every one knows. As

implied in cases above given, self-exaltation is sometimes the
cause, and sometimes exaltation by others. When a Makololo
chief arrives at a village, the people salute him with the
title, * Great lion/ King Koffi's attendants exclaim — " Look
before thee, O Lion." In the Harris papyrus, King Men-
cheper-ra (Tothmes III) is called ' the Furious Lion ; ' and
the name of one of the kings of the second Egyptian
dynasty, Kakau, means M the boll of bulls." In early Assyrian
inscriptions we read — " Like a bull thou shalt rule over the
chiefs : " a simile which, as is shown in another case, readily
passes into metaphor. Thus in the third Sallier papyrus it is
said of Kameses — ft As a bull, terrible with pointed horns he
rose;" and then in a subsequent passage the defeated
address him — " Horus, conquering bulL"

Semembering that this habit survives among ourselves,
so that the cunning person is called a fox, the rude a bear,
the hypocritical a crocodile, the dirty a pig, the keen a
hawk, and so on— observing that in those ancient races who
had proper names of a developed kind, animal-nicknaming
still prevailed; let us ask what resulted from it in the
earliest stages.

§ 171. Verbal signs being at first so inadequate that gesture-
signs are needful to eke them out, the distinction between
metaphor and fact cannot be expressed, much less preserved
in tradition. If, as shown by instances Mr. Tylor gives, even
the higher races confound the metaphorical with the literal
— if the statement in the Koran that God opened and cleansed
Mahomet's heart, originates a belief that his heart was
actually taken out, washed, and replaced — if from accounts of
tribes without governors, described as without heads, there
has arisen among civilized people the belief that there are

336 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

races of headless men; we cannot wonder if the savage,
lacking knowledge and speaking a rude language, gets the
idea that an ancestor named " the Tiger " was an actual tiger.
From childhood upwards he hears his father's father spoken of
by this name. No one suspects he will misinterpret it : error
being, indeed, a general notion the savage has scarcely reached.
And there are no words serving to convey a correction, even
if the need is perceived. Inevitably, then, he grows up
believing that his father descended from a tiger — thinking of
himself as one of the tiger stock. Everywhere the results of
such mistakes meet us.

"A characteristic feature in Central Asiatic traditions,"
6ay the Michells," is the derivation of their origin from some
animal." According to Brooke, the Sea-Dyaks shrink
superstitiously from eating certain animals ; because " they
suppose these animals bear a proximity to some of their
forefathers, who were begotten by them or begot them."
Among the Bechuana tribes "the term Bakatla means, 'they
of the monkey ; ' Bakuena, ' they of the alligator ; ' Batlapi,
' they of the fish : ' each tribe having a superstitious dread of
the animal after which it is called." The Patagonians possess
" a multiplicity of these deities ; each of whom they believe
to preside over one particular caste or family of Indians, of
which he is supposed to have been the creator. Some make
themselves of the caste of the tiger, some of the lion, some of
the guanaco, and others of the ostrich," Leaving

the many illustrations supplied by other regions, we will look
more nearly at those coming from North America. The
tribes north of the Columbia " pretend to be derived from the
musk-rat." "All the aboriginal inhabitants of California,
without exception, believe that their first ancestors were
created directly from the earth of their respective present
dwelling-places, and, in very many cases, that these ancestors
were coyotes" [prairie-wolves]. Of the Zapotecs we read
that " some, to boast of their valour, made themselves out the
sons of lions and divers wild beasts." By the Huidahs,

ANIMAL-WORSHIP. 387

"descent from the crows is quite gravely affirmed and stead-
fastly maintained." " Among the Ahts of Vancouver Island,
perhaps the commonest notion of origin is that men at first
existed as birds, animals, and fishes." The Chippewayans
" derive their origin from a dog. At one time they were so
strongly imbued with respect for their canine ancestry, that
they entirely ceased to employ dogs in drawing their
sledges." The Koniagas "have their legendary Bird and
Dog, — the latter taking the place occupied in the mythology
of many other tribes by the wolf or coyote."

In some cases, accounts are given of the transmutations.
Californian Indians descending from the prairie-wolf, explain
the loss of their tails : they say, " an acquired habit of sitting
upright, has utterly erased and destroyed that beautiful
member." Those Northern Californians who ascribe their
origin in part to grizzly bears, assert that in old times these
walked " on their hind legs like men, and talked, and carried
clubs, using the fore-limbs as men use their arms." Even
more strangely are these ideas of relationship shown by
Franklin's account of the Dog-rib Indians : —

M These people take their names, in the first instance, from their dogs.
A young man is the father of a certain dog, but when he is married and
has a son, he styles himself the father of the boy. The women have a
habit of reproving the dogs very tenderly when they observe them
fighting. ' Are you not ashamed/ say they, * to quarrel with your little
brother V"

§ 172. This last illustration introduces us to various se-
quences from the conception of animal-ancestry, thus arising
by misinterpretation of nicknames.

Animals must think and understand as men do ; for are
they not derived from the same progenitors ? Hence the
belief of the Papagos,that in primeval days "men and beasts
talked together: a common language made all brethren."9
Hence the practice of the Kamschadales, who, when fishing,
" entreat the whales or sea-horses not to overthrow their
boats ; and in hunting, beseech the bears and wolves not to

z

338 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY,

hurt them." Hence the habit of the Dacotahs, who ask
snakes to be friendly ; and of whom Schoolcraft says — " I
have heard Indians talk and reason with a horse, the same
as with a person." Hence the notion betrayed by the negro
attendants of Livingstone, who tells us — " I asked my men
what the hyaenas were laughing at ; as they usually give ani-
mals credit for a share of intelligence. They said they were
laughing because we could not take the whole [of the ele-
phant], and that they would have plenty to eat as well as we."

A second sequence is that animals, thus conceived as akin
to men, are often treated with consideration. The Chippe-
was, thinking they will have to encounter in the other world
the spirits of slain animals, apologized to a bear for killing
him, asked forgiveness, and pretended that an American was
to blame ; and, similarly, the Ostyaks, after destroying a bear,
cut off his head, and paying it " the profoundest respect/'
tell the bear that the Bussians were his murderers. Among
the Kookies, " the capture of an elephant, tiger, bear, wild
hog, or any savage wild beast, is followed by a feast in pro-
pitiation of its manes" Kindred ceremonies are performed
by the Stiens of Cambodia, the Sumatrans, the Dyaks, the
Kaffirs, the Siamese, and even the Arabs.

Naturally, as a further sequence, there comes a special
regard for the animal which gives the tribal name, and is con-
sidered a relative. As the ancestor conceived under the human
form is thought able to work good or ill to his descendants, so,
too, is the ancestor conceived under the brute-form. Hence
" no Indian tracing his descent from the spirit mother and the
grizzly . . . will kill a grizzly bear." The Osages will not
destroy the beaver : believing themselves derived from it
" A tribe never eats of the animal which is its namesake,"
among ^he Bechuanas. like ideas and practices occur in
Australia in a less settled form. " A member of the family
will never kill an animal of the species to which his kobong
[animal-namesake] belongs, should he find it asleep ; indeed,
he always kills it reluctantly, and never without affording it

ANIMAL-WORSHIP.- 339

a change of escape." Joined with this regard for the animal-
namesake considered as a relative, there goes belief in its
guardianship; and hence arises the faith in omens derived
from birds and quadrupeds. The ancestor under the brute
form, is supposed to be solicitous for the welfare of his
kindred ; and tells them by signs or sounds of their danger.

§ 173. Do we not in -these observances see the beginnings'
of a worship? If the East Africans think the souls of de-
parted chiefs enter into lions and render them sacred; we
may conclude that sacredness will equally attach to the
jmimftla whose human- souls were ancestral. If the Congo
people, holding this belief about lions, think " the lion spares
those whom he meets, when he* is oourteously saluted ; " the
implication is that there will arise propitiations of the beast-
chief who was the progenitor of the tribe. Prayers and
offerings may be expected to develop into a cult, and the
animal-namesake into a deity.

When, therefore, among American Indians, whose habit of
naming after animals still continues, and whose legends of
animal-progenitors are so specific, we find animals taking
rank as creators and divinities — when we read that " ' raven '
and ' wolf ' are the names of the two gods of the Thlinkeets,
who are supposed to be the founders of the Indian race ; "
we have just the result to be anticipated. And when of
this tribe we further read that " the Raven trunk is again
divided into sub-clans, called the Frog, the Goose, the Sea-
Lion, the Owl, and the Salmon," while " the Wolf family
comprises the Bear, Eagle, Dolphin, Shark, and Alca ; " we
-see that apotheosis under the animal form, follows the same
course as apotheosis under the human form. In either case,
more recent progenitors of sub-tribes are subordinate to
the ancient progenitors of the entire tribe.

Guided by these various clues we may, t think, infer
that much of the developed animal-worship of the ancient
historic races, grew out t>f this misinterpretation of nick-

z 2

i

34 0 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

names. Even now, among partially-civilized peoples, the
re-genesis of such worship is shown us. In Ashantee certain
of the king's attendants, whose duty it is to praise him,
or " give him names/' cry out among other titles — " Bore,"
(the name of a venomous serpent) " you are most beautiful,
but your bite is deadly." As these African kings ordinarily
undergo apotheosis — as this laudatory title " Bore," may be
expected to survive in tradition along with other titles, and
to be used in propitiations — as the Zulus, who, led by another
suggestion, think dead men become snakes, distinguish
certain venomous snakes as chiefs; we must admit that
from this complimentary nickname of a king who became
a god, may naturally grow up the worship of a serpent:
a serpent who, nevertheless, had a human history. Simi-
larly when we ask what is likely to happen from the
animal- name by which the king is honoured in Madagascar.
" God is gone to the west — Badama is a mighty bull," were
expressions used by the Malagasy women in their songs in
praise of their king, who was absent on a warlike expedition.
Here we have the three titles simultaneously applied — the
god, the king, the bull. If, then, the like occurred in ancient
Egypt — if the same papyrus which shows us Barneses II
invoking his divine ancestor, also contains the title "con-
quering bull," given to Barneses by the subjugated — if we
find another Egyptian king called " a resolute Bull, he went
forward, being a Bull king, a god manifest the day of com-
bats ; " can we doubt that from like occurrences in earlier
times arose the worship of Apis ? Can we doubt that Osiris-
Apis was an ancient hero-king, who became a god, when,
according to Brugsch, the Step-pyramid, built during the first
dynasty, " concealed the bleached bones of bulls and the in-
scriptions chiselled in the stone relating to the royal names of
the Apis," and, as he infers, " was a common sepulchre of
the holy bulls : " re-incarnations of this apotheosized hero-
king ? Can we doubt that the bovine deities of the Hindus
and Assyrians similarly originated ?

ANIMAL-WORSHIP, 841

. So that misinterpretations of metaphorical titles, which
inevitably occur in early speech, being given, the rise of
animal-worship is a natural sequence. Mammals, birds,
reptiles, fishes, all yield nicknames ; are all in one place or
other regarded as progenitors; all acquire, among this or
that people, a sacredness rising in many cases to adoration.
Even where the nickname is one pf reproach — even where
the creature is of a kind to inspire contempt rather than
respect, we see that identification with the ancestor explains
worship of it. The Veddahs, who are predominantly an-
cestor-worshippers, also worship a tortoise. Though among
them the reason is not traceable, we find an indication of it
elsewhere. Mr. Bates, during his Amazon explorations, had
two attendants surnamed Tortoise; and their surname had
descended to them from a father whose slowness had sug-
gested this nickname. Here we see the first step towards
the formation of a tortoise tribe; having the tortoise for
ancestor, totem, deity.

§ 174 Some strange facts, completely explicable on the
hypothesis above set forth, may be added. I refer to the
worship of beings represented as half man half brute.

If, in the genealogy of future Ashantee kings, tradition
preserves the statement that their ancestor was the veno-
mous serpent " Bore " — if there goes down to posterity the
fact that " Bore " was a ruler, a law-maker, an articulate
speaking person — if legend says both that he was a snake
and that he was a man ; what is likely to happen ? Im-
plicitly believing his seniors, the savage will accept both
these assertions. In some cases he will sit down contentedly
under the contradiction ; in others he will attempt a com-
promise. Especially if he makes a graphic or sculptured
effigy, will he be led to unite the incongruous characters as
best he can — will produce a figure partly human, partly
reptilian. It may be reasonably anticipated that if Malagasy
stories and songs tell of the conquering Badama as "a

342 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

mighty bull'9 as a king, as a god, development of the result-
ing cult, joined with development of the plastic arts, will end
in a representation of the god Kadama either as a man, or as
a bull, or as a bull-headed man, or as a creature having a
bovine body with a human head.

In another manner does misinterpretation of metaphors
suggest this type of deity. Ancestors who survive in legends
under their animal-names, and of whom the legends also
eay that they took to wife certain ancestors bearing either
different animal-names or human names, will be supposed to
have had offspring combining the attributes of both parents.
A passage from Bancroft's account of the Aleutians shows us
the initial stage of such a belief*

" Some say that m the beginning a Bitch inhabited Unalaska, and
that a great Dog swam across to her from Kadiak ; from which pair the
human race have sprung. Others, naming the bitch-mother of their
race Mahakh, describe a certain Old Man, called Iraghdadakh, who
came from the north to visit this Mahakh. The result of this visit was
the birth of two creatures, male and female, with such an extraordinary
mixing up of the elements of nature in them that they were each half
man half fox."

Now such a legend, or such a one as that of the Quiches con-
cerning the descent of mankind from a cave-dwelling woman
and a dog who could transform himself into a handsome
youth, or such a one as that of the Dikokamenni Kirghiz,
who say they are descended "from a red greyhound and a
certain queen with her forty handmaidens," can hardly fail
to initiate ideas of compound gods. Peoples who advance far
enough to develop their rude effigies of ancestors placed on
graves, into idols inclosed in temples, will, if they have
traditions of this kind, be likely to represent the creators of
their tribes as dog^headed men or human-faced dogs.

In these two allied ways, then, the hybrid deities of semi-
civilized peoples are explicable. The Chaldeans and Babylo-
nians had in common their god Nergal, the winged man-lion,
and also Nin, the fish-god — a fish out of which grew near its
head a human head, and near its tail human feet. The

ANIMAL-WORSMP. 343

adjacent Philistines, -too, had their kindred god Dagon, shown
with the face and hands of a man and the tail of a Ash.
Then in Assyria there was the winged man-bull, representa-
tive of Nin ; and in Phoenicia there was Astarte, sometimes
represented as partially human and partially bovine. Egypt
had a great variety of these compound supernatural beings.
In addition to the god Ammon, figured as a man with a ram's
head, Horns, with the head of a hawk, the goddesses Muth and
Hathor with that of a lion and that of a cow, Thoth with that
of an ibis, Typhon with that of an ass, and brute-headed
demons too numerous to mention; we have the various
sphinxes, which to a lion's body unite the heads of men,
of rams, of hawks, of snakes, etc. We have also more
involved compounds ; as winged mammals with hawks' heads,
and winged crocodiles with hawks' heads. Nay, there wad
one named Sak, which, says Wilkinson, "united a bird, a
quadruped, and a vegetable production in its own person."
The explanation is evident. We have seen that to the late
king of Ashantee both " Lion " and " Snake * were given
as names of honour; and the multiplication of names of
honour was carried to a great extent by the Egyptians.

§ 175. To abridge what remains of this exposition, I will
merely indicate the additional groups of supporting facts.

The Egyptians, whose customs were so persistent and
whose ancestor-worship was so elaborate, show us, just where
we might expect them, all the results of this misinterpre-
tation. They had clans whose sacred animals differed, and
who regarded each other's sacred animals with abhorrence :
a fact pointing to an early stage when these animals gave the
names to chiefs of antagonistic tribes. Animal-naming con-
tinued down to late periods in their history : after their kings
had human proper names, they still had animal-names joined
with these. The names of some of their sacred animals were
identical with those given in honour. They embalmed
animals as they embalmed men. They had animal-gods ;
they had many kinds of hybrid gods.

314 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Where we find most dominant the practice of naming
after animals, and where there result these legends of
descent from animals and regard for them as divinities, we
also find developed to the greatest extent, the legends about
animal-agency in human affairs. As Bancroft says concern-
ing the Indians of the Pacific States — " Beasts and birds and
fishes fetch and carry, talk and act, in a way that leaves even
iEsop's heroes in the shade." Numerous such facts answer
to the hypothesis.

The hypothesis explains, also, the cases in which the order
of genesis is inverted. " The Salish, the Nisquallies, and the
Yakimas ... all hold that beasts, fishes, and even edible
roots are descended from human originals." Clearly this is a
conception which the misinterpretation of nicknames may
originate. If "the Bear" was the founder of a tribe
whose deeds were preserved in tradition, the alternative in-
terpretations might be that he was the bear from whom
men descended, or that be was the man from whom bears
descended. Many of the metamorphoses of classic mythology
probably thus originated, when the human antecedents,
either pf parentage or adventures, were so distinct as to nega-
tive the opposite view.

Of course the doctrine of metempsychosis becomes com-
prehensible; and its developments no longer look so gro-
tesque. Where a man who had several animal-names was
spoken of in this legend as the eagle and in that as the wolf,
there would result the idea that he was now one and now
the other; and from this suggestion, unchecked credulity
might not unnaturally elaborate the belief in successive
transformations.

Stories of women who have borne animals, similarly fall
into their places. The Land-Dyaks of Lundu consider it
wrong to kill the cobra, because " one of their female an-
cestors was pregnant for seven years, and ultimately brought
forth twins — one a human being, the other a cobra." The
Batavians "believe that women, when they are delivered

ANIMAL-WORSHIP. 345

6f a child, are frequently at the same time delivered of a
young crocodile as a twin." May we not conclude that
twins of whom one gained the nickname of the crocodile,
gave rise to a legend which originated this monstrous belief ?
If the use of animal-names preceded the use of human
proper names — if, when there arose such proper names, these
did not at first displace the animal-names but were joined
with them — if, at a still later stage, animal-names fell into
disuse and the conventional surnames became predominant ;
then it seems inferable that the brute-god arises first, that
the god half-brute and half-human belongs to a later stage,
and that the anthropomorphic god comes latest. Amid the
entanglements due to the mixtures of mythologies, it is
difficult to show this ; but there seems reason for suspecting
that it has been so among peoples who originally practised
animal-naming extensively.

§ 176. We conclude, then, that in three ways is the primi-
tive man led to identify the animal with the ancestor.

The other-self of the dead relative is supposed to come
back occasionllay to his old abode: how else is it possible
for the survivors, sleeping there, to see him in their dreams ?
Here are creatures which commonly, unlike wild creatures in
general, come into houses— come in, too, secretly in the
night. The implication is clear. That snakes, which espe-
cially do this, are the returned dead, is inferred by peoples in
Africa, Asia, and America: the haunting of houses being
the common trait of the kinds of snakes reverenced or
worshipped ; and also the trait of certain lizards, insects, and
birds similarly regarded*

The ghost, sometimes re-visiting the house, is thought also
to linger in the neighbourhood of the corpse. Creatures
found in caves used for burials, hence come to be taken
for the new shapes assumed by departed souls. Bats and
qwIs are conceived to be winged spirits; and from them
arise the ideas of devils and angels.

346 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

Lastly, and chiefly, comes that identification of the animal
with the ancestor, which is caused by interpreting meta-
phorical names literally. Primitive speech is unable to
transmit to posterity the distinction between an animal and a
person named after that animal Hence the confusion of the
two ; hence the regard for the animal as progenitor ; hence
the growth of a worship. Besides explaining animal-gods,
this hypothesis accounts for sundry anomalous beliefs — the
divinities half-brute, half-human ; the animals that talk, and
play active parts in human affairs; the doctrine of metem-
psychosis, etc.

By modification upon modification, leading to complica-
tions and divergences without limit, evolution brings into
being products extremely unlike their germs; and we here
have an instance in this derivation of animal-worship from
the propitiation of ghosts.

Note.— Some have concluded that animal - worship originates from
totemism : a totem being an animal, plant, or inorganic object, chosen as a
distinctive symbol bj a tribe or by a man. Among some peoples, individuals,
led by signs, fix on particular animals as guardians ; and thereafter treat them
as sacred. It is assumed that tribal totems bare originated in similar acta of
deliberate choice; and that in each case the belief in descent from the
animal, plant, or other object chosen, originates subsequently.

This hypothesis inverts the facts : belief in descent is primary and totemiim
is secondary. Doubtless there are cases, in which individual savages fix on
special objects as their totems ; but this no more proves that totemism thus
arose, than does the fixing on a coat of arms by a wealthy trader prove that
heraldic distinctions were at the outset established by deliberate selections.

The totem-theory incidentally propounds a problem more difficult than that
which it professes to solve. It raises the question — Why did there occur so
purely gratuitous an act as that of fixing on a symbol for the tribe P That
by one tribe out of multitudes so strange a whim might be displayed, is
credible. But that by tribes unallied in type and scattered throughout the
world, there should have been independently adopted so odd a practice is
incredible.

Not only is the hypothesis untenable as implying a result without a
comprehensible cause, but it is untenable as being at variance with the
nature of the primitive mind. The savage invents nothing, initiates nothing.
He simply does and believes whatever his seniors taught him j and he
deviates into anything new unintentionally. An hypothesis which assumes
the contrary is out of court.

CHAPTER XXIIL

PLANT-WORSHIP,

§ 177. Whether produced by fasting/ fever, hysteria, or
insanity, any extreme excitement is, by savage and semi-
civilized peoples, ascribed to a possessing spirit : this we saw
in §§ 123 — 31. Similar is the interpretation of an unusual
mental state caused by a nervous stimulant. It is thought
that a supernatural being, contained in the solid or liquid
swallowed, produces it

Speaking of opium-eaters, VamWry says — "What sur-
prised me most was that these wretched people were regarded
as eminently religious, of whom it was thought that from
their love to God and the Prophet they had become mad,
and stupefied themselves in order that in their excited state
they might be nearer the Beings they loved so well." So,
too, the Mandingoes intoxicate themselves to enter into
relation with the godhead: the accompanying belief being
that the exaltation experienced is a divine inspiration. This
was the view definitely expressed by the Arafura (Papuan
Islander) who, when told about the Christian God, said—
" Then this God is certainly in your arrack, for I never feel
happier than when I have drunk plenty of it."

May we not hence expect certain derivative beliefs respect-
ing plants which yield intoxicating liquors? Obviously;
and our search for them will not be fruitless.

§ 178. As a typical case may be taken the worship of

348 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

the Soma. This plant, represented as growing in certain
mountains, as gathered by moonlight, and as drawn with
ceremonies to the place of sacrifice, was crashed between
stones, and its juice expressed and filtered. When fermented,
the juice (in some places described as sweet) produced an
intoxicating liquor which was drunk by the devotees, who,
judging from the words, " a rishi, a drinker of the Soma,"
were of the priestly class. The exhilarating effects of the
beverage were attributed to inspiration by a supernatural
being, who was therefore lauded and adored. In his essay
on the subject, partly translated by Dr. Muir, Windisch-
mann describes the Soma as ''the holiest offering of the
ancient Indian worship" (ii, 471); or, as Muir says, "the
rishis had come to regard Soma as a god, and apparently to
be passionately devoted to his worship." Here, from the
Sanscrit Texts of the latter writer, are passages showing the
genesis of the belief. First may be placed some implying
the exaltation caused by the fermented Soma-juice.

Rig Veda vi, 47, 3. "This [soma] when drunk, stimulates my speech
[or hymn] ; this called forth the ardent thought" (iii, 264).
: R. V. ix, 25, 5. "The ruddy Soma, generating hymns, with the
powers of a poet " (iii, 265).

R. V. viii, 48, 3. "We have drunk the soma, we have become im-
mortal, we have entered into light, we have known the gods "(iii, 265).

Not only the rishis are inspired by Soma, but also their
deities. "The gods drink the offered beverage," and are
" thrown into a joyous intoxication." Indra " performs his
great deeds under its influence." It is said — " We summon
his soul [that of Varuna] with Soma." Elsewhere the con-
tained supernatural being is addressed personally.

R V. ix, 1 10, 7. " The former [priests] having strewed the sacred
grass, offered up a hymn to thee, O Soma, for great strength and food "
(iii, 223).

R V. ix, 96, 11. " For through thee, O pure Soma, our wise fore-
fathers of old performed their sacred rites " (iii, 222).

R V. ix, 96, 18. "Soma, rishi-minded, rishi-maker, bestower of
good, master of a thousand songs, the leader of sages " (iii, 251).

PLANT-WORSHIP. 349

How literal was the belief that by a draught of soma the
drinker became possessed, is proved by the prayer — " Soma
. . . do thou enter into us, full of kindness/1 And then,
showing how the resulting mental power was regarded as a
divine afflatus, we have the passage in R V. ix, 97, 7 —
" Uttering, like U£anas, the wisdom of a sage, the god (Soma)
declares the births of the gods." Other passages, along with
this deification of the Soma, join the belief that he is
present in the beverage partaken of alike by the other gods
and by men. Instance, in B. V. ix, 42, 2, the words — " This
god, poured forth to the gods, with an ancient hymn, purifies
with his stream." Further, there are implied identifications
of this supernatural being with a once-living person. One
of the less specific in R V. ix, 107, 7, runs — " A rishi, a sage,
intelligent, thou (Soma) wast a poet, most agreeable to the
gods." In other places his identity is more specifically
stated. Thus, in the Taittirlya Brahmana, ii, 3, 10, 1, it is
said — "Prajapati created king Soma. After him the three
Vedas were created." And still more specific are the
legends which describe king Soma as having wives, and
narrate his disagreements with some of them. Much more
exalted, however, is the character elsewhere given to him.
u He is immortal, and confers immortality on gods and men ;"
u the creator "and father of the gods ; " " king of gods and
men." Yet along with this ascription of supreme divinity
goes the belief that he is present in the Soma-juice. Here
is a passage combining all the attributes : —

B. Y. ix, 96, 5 and 6. " Soma is purified ; he who is the generator of
hymns, of Dyaus, of Prithivl, of Agni, of SOrya, of Indra, and of Yishnu.
Soma, who is a brahman-priest among the gods (or priests), a leader
among the poets, a rishi among sages, a buffalo among wild beasts, a
falcon among vultures, an axe amid the forests, advances to the filter
with a sound " (iii, 266).

The origin of these conceptions dates back to a time when
the Aryan races had not widely diverged ; for like concep-
tions occur in the Zend-Avesta. Though instead of Soma, the

350 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

name there used is Haoma, there is so general an agreement
as to show identity of the plant and of the worship. Win-
dischmann says the Haoma is M not a plant only, but also a
powerful deity ; " and also that " in both works (Zend-Avesta
and Rig Veda) the conceptions of the god and the sacred
juice blend wonderfully with each other."

That certain plants yielding intoxicating agents are there-
fore supposed to contain supernatural beings, is a conclusion
supported by other instances — that of the Tine being one.
Speaking of Soma as " the Indian Dionysus/' Dr. Muir
quotes from the Bacchw of Euripides certain passages show-
ing analogous conceptions. Of Dionysus it is said :—

" He discovered and introduced among men the liquid draught of tho
grape, which puts an end to the sorrows of wretched mortals " (v, 260).

" He, born a god, is poured out in libations to gods * (v, 260).

" And this deity is a prophet For Bacchic excitement and raving
have in them much prophetic power. For when this god enters in
force into the body, he causes those who rave to foretell the future "
(iii,265).

That the facts are to be thus interpreted is shown by cer-
tain allied but less developed beliefs found elsewhere. In
Peru, tobacco " has been called the sacred herb " — a nervous
stimulant was regarded with reverence. Similarly with
another plant which has an invigorating effect, coca. " The
Peruvians still look upon it [coca] with feelings of supersti-
tious veneration. In the time of the Incas it was sacrificed
to the Sun, the Huillac Umu, or high priest, chewing the
leaf during the ceremony." Among the Chibchas, too, liayo
(coca) was used as an inspiring agent by the priests ; and
certain people chewed and smoked tobacco to produce the
power of divination. In North Mexico, a kindred notion is
implied by the fact that some of the natives " have a great
veneration for the hidden virtues of poisonous plants, and
believe that if they crush or destroy one, some harm will
happen to them." And at the present time in the Philippine
Islands, the Ignatius bean, which contaius strychnia and is

PLANT-WOBSHIP. 351

used as a medicine, is worn as an amulet and held capable of
miracles.*

§ 179. The attribution to a plant of a human personality,
and the consequent tendency towards worship of the plant,
has other origins. Here is one of them.

In §. 148, after giving some extracts from the cosmo-
gony of the Amazulu, including the statement that Unku-
lunkulu, their creator, descended from a reed, or a bed of
reeds, I cited the interpretation of Bp. Callaway: re-
marking that we should hereafter find a more natural one.
This more natural one is not derivable from traditions fur-
nished by the Amazulu alone; but comparison of their
traditions with those of neighbouring races discloses it.

Already it has been shown that in South Africa, as in

• As a corollary from this group of beliefs, let me here add a possible
explanation. Causing mental exaltation, Soma is described in the Yedio
hymns as giving knowledge. We have the expressions — " Soma of incom-
parable wisdom ; " " the ruddy Soma " has " the understanding of a sage ; "
"we hare drunk the Soma, ... we have entered into light." By im-
plication, then, the Soma is called, if not a " tree of knowledge," still, a
plant of knowledge. Further, the Soma is said to have given life to the gods ;
and the rejoicing statement of the rishis is — " We have drunk the Soma, we
have become immortal." As the source of an enlivening beverage the Soma is
thus a " tree of life ;" and how naturally such a notion results from the effect
of a nervous stimulant, is shown to us by the calling alcohol eau de vie. Now
with these facts join the fact, that where the supply of a valued commodity is
small, a superior person naturally forbids consumption of it by inferiors — the
conquered, slaves, subjects. Thus in Peru, the nervous stimulant coca, or
c*ca, was limited to the royal class : "only the Ynca and his relations, and
some Curacas, to whom the Ynca extended this favour, were allowed to eut
the herb called cuca." We here discern a probable motive for interdicting
the use of a plant from the fruit or juice of which a stimulant producing
mental exaltation is obtained — a motive much more comprehensible than is
the desire that subject beings should continue to confound good and evil* A
certain ancient legend is thus rendered comprehensible. (Since this was
written I find that the sacred tree of the Assyrians, figured in their sculp-
tures, is considered by archaeologists— having no hypothesis to justify — to
represent the palm-tree ; and with this identification we may join the fact
that, even still, in some regions, an intoxicating drink is made by fermenting
psim-juice.)

352 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

other parts of the world, stories obviously descending bom
ancestral troglodytes, refer to caves as places of creation.
Instances before given may be supported by others. Re-
specting the Bechuanas, Moffat says —

" Morimo [the native name for a god] as well as man, with all the
different species of animals, came out of a hole or cave in the Bakone
country, to the north, where, say they, their footmarks are still to be
seen in the indurated rock, which was at that time sand.9

Again, the beliefs of the Basutos are thus given by Casalis : —

" A legend says that both men and animals came out of the bowels
of the earth by an immense hole, the opening of which was in a cavern,
and that the animals appeared first. Another tradition, more*generaUy
received among the Basutos, is, that man sprang up in a marshy place,
where reeds were growing."

And now observe the unexpected way in which these two

traditions of the Basutos are reconciled with one another, as

well as with the traditions of the Bechuanas and the Ama-

zulu. Here is a passage from Arbousset and Daumas : —

" This spot is very celebrated amongst the Basutos and the Lighoyas,
not only because the litahus of the tribes are there, but because of a
certain mythos, in which they are told that their ancestors came origin-
ally from that place. There is there a cavern surrounded with marsh
reeds and mud, whence they believe that they have all proceeded."

So that these several statements refer to the same place —
the place where Unkulunkulu " broke off in the beginning *
— where he " broke off the nations from Uthlanga " [a reed]
— where the tribes separated (the word used means literally
to separate). And while in some traditions the cave became
dominant, in others the surrounding bed of reeds was alone
recollected. Men came out of the reeds — men descended
from reeds — men descended from a reed ; became one form
of the legend.

Among the Amazulu there seems no resulting worship of
the reed ; and as, worshipping their near ancestors, they do
not worship their remotest ancestor Unkulunkulu, it is con-
sistent that they should not worship the plant whence he is
said to have proceeded. Another South African race, how-
ever, worship a plant similarly regarded as an original

PLANT-WORSHIP. 353

ancestor. Of the Damaras, Galton tells us * a tree is sup-
posed to be the universal progenitor, two of which divide
the honour " (Andersson says there are several). Elsewhere
he adds — " We passed a magnificent tree. It was the parent
of all the Damaras. . . . The savages danced round and
round it in great delight." In another place he thus gives
the Damara creed : — " In the beginning of things there was
a tree, . . . and out of this tree came Damaras, Bushmen,
oxen, and zebras. . . . The tree gave birth to everything else
that lives." Unconnected with anything further, this ap-
pears to be an unaccountable belief. But a clue to the
origin of it is yielded by the following note in Andersson's
Ngami. " In my journey to the Lake Ngarai, ... I ob-
served whole forests of a species of tree called Omumbo-
rombonga, the supposed progenitor of the Damaras." If,
now, we make the reasonable supposition that these tribes
descended from a people who lived in forests of such trees
(and low types, as Veddahs, Judngs, and wild tribes in the
interior of Borneo, are forest-dwellers), we may infer that a
confusion like that between a reed and a bed of reeds,
originated this notion of descent from a tree.

The inference drawn from these two allied cases might
he questionable were it unsupported ; but it is supported
by the inference from a much stronger case. Bastian tells
us that the Congoese proper, according to their traditions,
have sprung from trees; and we are also told that "the
forest from which the reigning family of Congo originated,
was afterwards an object of veneration to the natives."
Here, then, emergence from a forest is obviously confounded
with descent from trees ; and there is a consequent quasi- wor-
ship both of the forest and of its component tree : individual
trees of the species being planted in their market-places.

On recalling the before-named fact, that even Sanscrit
indiscriminately applies to the same process the words
making and begetting; we shall not doubt that an inferior
language will fail to maintain in tradition the distinction

2 a

354 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

between emerging from a forest of trees of a certain kind
and emerging from a certain kind of tree. Doubt, if any
remains, will disappear when we come to sundry analogous
cases of confusion between a locality whence the race came,
and a conspicuous object in that locality, which so becomes
the supposed parent of the race.

§ 180. Before passing to the third origin of plant-»worshipt
which, like the third origin of animal-worship, is linguistic,
I must remind the reader of the defects of language con-
ducing to it, and exemplify some others.

According to Palgrave, "the colours green, black, and
brown are habitually confounded in common Arabic par-
lance." Hunter says "San tali, being barren of abstract
terms, has no word for ' time/ " The Kamschadales have
"but one term for the sun and the moon," and have u scarcely
any names for fish or birds, which are merely distinguished
by the moon in which they are the most plentiful/' Such
instances strengthen the conclusion that undeveloped speech
cannot express the distinction between an object and a
person named after it.

But here let us observe that this inference need not be
left in the form of an implication : it may be directly drawn.
In early stages of linguistic progress there can exist no such
word as name ; still less a word for the act of naming. Even
the ancient Egyptian language had not risen to the power of
expressing any difference between " My name " and " I name
or call." Understood in the abstract, the word name is a
symbol of symbols. Before a word can be conceived as a
name, it must be thought of not simply as a sound associated
with a certain object, but it must be thought of as having
the ability to remind other persons of that object; and
then this general property of names must be abstracted
in thought from many examples, before the conception
of a name can arise. If now we remember that in the
languages of inferior races the advances in generalization

PLANT-WORSHIP. 355

6iid abstraction are so slight that, while there are word?
for particular kinds of trees, there is no word for tree, and
that, as among the Damaras, while each reach of a river has
its special title, there is none for the river as a whole, much
less a word for river ; or if, still better, we consider the fact
that the Cherokees have thirteen verbs to express washing
different parts of the body and different things, but no word
for washing, dissociated from the part or thing washed ; we
shall see that social life must have passed through sundry
stages, with their accompanying steps in linguistic progress,
before the conception of a name became possible.

Inductive justification is not wanting. Unfortunately, in
most vocabularies of the uncivilized, travellers have given
us only such equivalents for out words as they contain:
taking no note of the words we possess for which they have
no equivalents. There is not this defect, however, in the
vocabularies compiled by Mr. F. A. de Koepstorff. From
these it appears that the tribes in Great Nicobar, in Little
Nicobar, in Teressa, and in the Andaman Islands, have no
words corresponding to our word name. .

The inference, then, is inevitable. If there is no word for
name, it is impossible for the narrators of legends to express
the distinction between a person and the object he was
named after. The results of' the confusion we have now to
observe in its relations to plant-worship.

§ 181. By the Tasmanians, " the names of men and women
were taken from natural objects and occurrences around, as,
for instance, a kangaroo, a gum-tree, snow, hail, thunder, the
wind." Among the Hill-tribes of India the like occurs :
a Cotton " and " White Cotton " are names of persons among
the Karens. Similarly in North America. Among Catlin's
portraits occur those of "The Hard Hickory " a Seneca
warrior, Pshan-shaw (" the Sweet-scented grass ") a Biccarre'e
girl, SheVde-a (" Wild Sage ") a Pawneepict girl, Mong-
duing-gbaw (" the Bending Willow ") a Puncah woman.

2 a 2

356 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

And in South America it is the same. The Araw&ks have
individuals known as " Tobacco," " Tobacco-leaf," " Tobacco-
flower ; " and by the ancient Peruvians one of the Yncas was
called " Sayri," a tobacco-plant.

On joining with these facts the fact that by the Pueblos,
one of the several tribes into which they are divided is called
the " Tobacco-plant race," we cannot fail to recognize an
effect of this naming after plants. Associated as this clan of
Pueblos is with other clans named after the bear, the prairie-
wolf, the rattle-snake, the hare, which have severally
descended from men called after, and eventually identified
with, these animals, the " Tobacco-plant race " has doubtless
descended from one who was called after, and eventually
identified with, the tobacco-plant. In like manner the
" fieed-grass race," of these same people, may be concluded
to have had a kindred derivation ; as also, among the tribes
of the river Isanna, the " Mandiocca " race,

Now if an animal regarded as original progenitor, is there-
fore reverentially treated; so, too, may we expect a plant-
ancestor will be: not, perhaps, so conspicuously, since the
powers of plants to affect the fates of human beings are less
conspicuous. But the idea of the sacredness of certain
plants is likely thus to originate, and to generate quasi-
religious observances.

A converse misinterpretation must here be noted. Already
we have seen (§ 175) that by the Salish, the Nisquallies, the
Yakimas, not only birds and beasts, but also edible roots are
supposed to have had human ancestors; and the way in
which misconstruction of names might lead to this suppo-
sition was indicated. But there exists a habit more specially
conducing to beliefs of this class. With various peoples it is
customary for the parent to take a name from the child, and
to be known after its birth as father or mother of So-and-so :
an instance was given in § 171, and the Malays and Dyaks
furnish others. Now if the child has either an animal-name
or a plant-name, the literal rendering in tradition of the

PLAKT-WORSHIP. 357

statement that a certain man was " the father of the turtle/9
or a certain woman " the mother of maize/9 would lead to the
belief that this animal or this plant had a human progenitor.
In some cases a figurative use of these Barnes of parenthood,
leads in a still stranger way to the same error, and to many
kindred errors. An individual is regarded as the producer,
or generator, of some attribute by which he or she is dis-
tinguished ; and is hence called the parent of that attribute.
For example, Mason tells us of the Karens — -

"When the child grows up, and develops any particular trait of
character, the friends give it another name, with * father ' or * mother
attached to it Thus, a boy is very quick to work, and he is named
' Father of swiftness.' If he is a good shot with a bow and arrow, he is
called 'Father of shooting.' 'When a girl is clever to contrive, she is
named * Mother of contrivance.' If she be ready to talk, she becomes
* Mother of talk.' Sometimes the name is given front the personal
appearance. Thus a very white girl is called ' Mother of white cotton ;'
and another of an elegant form is named * Mother of the' pheasant' "

The Arabs have a like habit. Here then we have kinds
of names which, misunderstood in after times, may initiate
beliefs in the human ancestry not only of plants and animals,
but of other things.

§ 182. An indirect proof that the attribution of spirits to
plants, and the resulting plant-worship, have arisen in one or
other of the ways shown, must be added.

Did plant-worship arise from an alleged primeval fetich*
ism — were it one of the animistic interpretations said to result
from the tendency of undeveloped minds to ascribe duality to
all objects ; there would be no explanation of the conceived
shape of the plant-spirit The savage thinks of the other-self
of a man, woman, or child, as like the man, woman, or child,
in figure. If, then, the conception of plant-spirits were, as
alleged, sequent upon an original animism, preceding and not
succeeding the ghost-theory, plant-spirits ought to be con-
ceived as plant-shaped ; and they ought to be conceived as
having other attributes like those of plants. Nothing of the

358 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

kind is found. They are not supposed to have any plant-
characters ; and they are supposed to have many characters
unlike those of plants. Observe the facts.

In the East there are stories of speaking trees : to the
indwelling doubles is attributed a faculty which the trees
themselves have not. The Congo-people place calabashes
of palm-wine at the feet of their sacred trees, lest they
should be thirsty : they ascribe to them a liking not shown
by trees, but treat them as they do their dead. In like
manner the statement quoted by Sir J. Lubbock from Old-
field, who, at Addacoodah, saw fowls and many other things
suspended as offerings to a gigantic tree ; the statement of
Mr. Tylor, who, to an ancient cypress in Mexico, found
attached by the Indians, teeth and locks of hair in great
numbers; the statement of Hunter that once a year, at
Beerbhoom, the Santals " make simple offerings to a ghost
who dwells in a Bela-tree;" unite to show that not the
tree, but the resident being, is propitiated; and that this
has characters utterly unlike those of a tree, and completely
like those of a human being. Further, in some Egyptian
wall-paintings, female forms are represented as emerging
from trees and dispensing blessings.

Still more conclusive is the direct evidence. The Sarawak
people believe men are sometimes metamorphosed into trees ;
and Low further says that the Land-Dyaks venerate certain
plants, building small bamboo altars near them, to which is
placed a ladder to facilitate the ascent of the spirits to the
offerings, consisting of food, water, etc., placed on the altar
on festive occasions. Equally specific is the conception of
the Iroquois. By them the spirit of corn, the spirit of beans,
the spirit of squashes, " are supposed to have the forms of
beautiful females : " recalling the dryads of classic mythology,
who, similarly conceived as human-shaped female spirits,
were sacrificed to in the same ways that human spirits in
general were sacrificed to. And then, lastly, we have the
fact that by the Santals these spirits or ghosts are individiv-

PLANT-WOBSIIIP. 359

alized. At their festivals the separate families " dance around
the particular trees which they fancy their domestic lares
chiefly haunt"

Harmonizing with the foregoing interpretations, these facts
are incongruous with the animistic interpretation.

§ 183. Plant-worship, then, like the worship of idols. and
animals, is an aberrant species of ancestor- worship — a species
somewhat more disguised externally, but having the same
internal nature. Though it develops in three different
directions, there is but one origin.

The toxic excitements produced by certain plants, or by
extracts from them, or by their fermented juices, are classed
with other excitements, as caused by spirits or demons.
Where the stimulation is agreeable, the possessing spirit,
taken in with the drug, is regarded as a beneficent being — a
being sometimes identified with a human original and gradu-
ally exalted into a divinity who is lauded and prayed to.

Tribes that have come out of places characterized by
particular trees or plants, unawares change the legend of
emergence from them into the legend of descent from them :
words fitted to convey the distinction not being contained in
their vocabularies. Hence the belief that such trees are their
ancestors ; and hence the regard for them as sacred.

Further, the naming of individuals after plants becomes a
cause of confusion. Identification of the two in tradition
can be prevented only by the use of verbal qualifications that
are impossible in rude languages ; and from the unchecked
identification there arise ideas and sentiments respecting
the plant-ancestor, allied to those excited by the animal-
ancestor or the ancestor figured as human.

Thus the ghost-theory, supplying us with a key to other
groups of superstitions, supplies us with a key to the super-
stitions constituting this group — superstitions otherwise im-
plying gratuitous absurdities which we may not legitimately
ascribe even to primitive men.

CHAPTER XXIV.

NATUBE-WORSHIP.

§ 184. Under this title which, literally interpreted, covers
the subject-matters of the last two chapters, but which, as
conventionally used, has a narrower meaning, it remains to
deal with superstitious beliefs concerning the mora con-
spicuous inorganic objects and powers.

If not prepossessed by other theories, the reader will anti-
cipate parallelism between the genesis of these beliefs and the
genesis of those already dealt with. That their derivation is
wholly unlike all derivations thus far traced, will seem im-
probable. He will, indeed, see that some of the reasons for
identifying the adored object with a departed human being,
no longer apply. Sun and Moon do not come into the old
home or haunt the burial-cave, as certain animals do ; and
therefore cannot for this reason be regarded as spirits of the
dead. Seas and mountains have not, v in common with
certain plants, the trait that parts of them when swallowed
produce nervous exaltation ; and ascription of divine natures
to them cannot thus be accounted for. But there remain,
as common causes, the misinterpretation of traditions and
the misinterpretation of names. Before dealing with these
linguistic sources of Nature-worship, let me point out a
further imperfection in undeveloped speech which co-
operates with the other imperfections

NATURE-WORSHIP. 361

In the Personal Recollections of Mrs. Somerville, she says
that her little brother, on seeing the great meteor of 1783,
exclaimed, "O, Mamma, there's the moon rinnin' awa."
This description of an inorganic motion by a word rightly
applied only to an organic motion, illustrates a peculiarity of
the speech used by children and savages. A child's vocabu-
lary consists mainly of words referring to those living beings
which chiefly affect it; and its statements respecting non-
living things and motions, show a lack of words free from
implications of vitality. The statements of uncivilized men
are similarly characterized. The inland negroes who accom-
panied Livingstone to the west coast, and on their return
narrated their adventures, described their arrival at the sea
by the words — " The world said to us ' I am finished ; there
is no more of me.' " like in form and like in implication
were the answers given to a correspondent who was in
Ashantee during the late war.

" I exclaimed, * We ought to be at Beulah by now, surely. But what's
that ? ' The answer came from oar guide. ' That, sar, plenty of water
live, bimeby we walkee cross him.' 'Where's Beulah, then?' 'Oh,
Beulah live other side him big hill' "

So, too, is it with the remark which a Bechuana chief made to
Casalis — " One event is always the son of another, . . . and
we must never forget the genealogy." The general truth
that the poorer a language the more metaphorical it is, and
the derivative truth that being first developed to express
human affairs, it carries with it certain human implications
when extended to the world around, is well shown by the
fact that even still our word "to be " is traced back to a
word meaning " to breathe." Manifestly this defect

in early speech conspires with the defects we have already
observed, in favouring personalization. If anything raises
the suspicion that an inorganic mass was once a human
being, or is inhabited by the ghost of one, the necessity
of using words implying life, fosters the suspicion. Taken
alone, this defect has probably little influence. Though a

362 TOE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

fetichistic system logically elaborated, may lead to the con-
clusion that boiling water is alive; yet I see no evidence
that the child who remarks of the boiling water that " it
says bubble, bubble," is led by the use of the word " says n
to believe the water a living being ; nor is there any indica-
tion that the negro who represented the Earth as saying
" I am finished/' therefore conceived the Earth as a speaking
creature. All we can safely say is that, given personali-
zations otherwise caused, and the use of these life-implying
words will confirm them. In the case of Nature-worship,
as in the cases of Animal- worship and Plant-worship, the
misleading beliefs due to language, take their rise from
positive statements accepted on authority, and unavoidably
misinterpreted.

Yet another cause of misinterpretation is the extremely
variable use of words in undeveloped speech, and consequent
wide differences of interpretation given to them. Here is
a passage from Krapf which well exemplifies this : —

" To the question, what precise meaning the Wanika attach to the
word Mnlungu ? one said that Mulungu was thunder ; some thought
it meant heaven, the visible sky ; some, again, were of opinion that
Mulungu was the being who caused diseases ; whilst others, however,
still held fast to a feeble notion of a Supreme Being as expressed by
that word. Some, too, believe that every man becomes a Mulungu
after death.9

Now when we are also told that Mulungu is the name
applied by the East Africans to their king — when we find
that the same word is employed to mean thunder, the sky,
the chief man, an ordinary ghost, it becomes manifest that
personalization of the great natural objects and powers, is
not only easy but almost inevitable.

In thus foreshadowing the conclusion that the worship of
conspicuous objects and powers around, conceived as persons,
results from linguistic errors, I appear to be indicating agree-
ment with the mythologists. But though misconstruction
of words is on both hypotheses the alleged cause, the mis-

Jtt

NATUBE-W0B8H1P. SC3

construction is different in kind and the erroneous course
of thought opposite in direction. The mythologists hold
that the powers of nature, at first conceived and worshipped
as impersonal, come to be personalized because of certain
characters in the words applied to them; and that the
legends concerning the persons identified with these natural
powers arise afterwards. Contrariwise, the view here held is
that the human personality is the primary element ; that the
identification of this with some natural power or object is
due to identity of name ; and that the worship of this natural
power thus arises secondarily.

That the contrast between these two modes of interpreta-
tion may be clearly understood, let us take an illustration.

§ 185. All winter the beautiful Sunshine, pursued by the
dark Storm, was ever hiding herself— -now behind the clouds,
now below the mountains. She could not steal forth from
her concealment for more than a short time without being
again chased with swift footsteps and loud thundering noise ;
and had quickly to retreat. After many moons, however,
the Storm, chasing less furiously and seeing her more clearly,
became gentler ; and Sunshine, gaining courage, from time to
time remained longer visible. Storm failing to capture by
pursuit, and softened by her charms, made milder advances.
Finally came their union. Then the Earth rejoiced in the
moist warmth ; and from them were bom plants which
covered its surface and made it gay with flowers. But every
autumn Storm begins to frown and growl; Sunshine flies
from him ; and the pursuit begins again. '

Supposing the Tasmanians had been found by us in a
semi-civilized state with a mythology containing some such
legend as this, the unhesitating interpretation put upon it,
after the method now accepted, would be that the observed
effects of mingled sunshine and storm were thus figuratively
expressed ; and that the ultimate representation of Sunshine

3C4 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

and Storm as persons who once lived on the Earth, was due
to the natural mythopceic tendency, which took its direction
from the genders of the words.

Contrariwise, how would such a supposed Tasmanian
legeild be explained in pursuance of the hypothesis here
set forth ? As already shown, birth-names among uncivilized
races, taken from the incidents of the moment, often refer to
the time of day and the weather. Catlin gives us portraits
of Ojibbeway Indians named " The Driving Cloud," " The
Moonlight Night," " The Hail Storm." Among names which
Mason enumerates as given by the Karens, are " Evening,"
<' Moon-rising," etc. Hence there is nothing anomalous in
the fact that " Ploo-ra-na-loo-na," meaning Sunshine, is the
name of a Tasmanian woman ; nor is there anything anoma-
lous in the fact that among the Tasmanians " Hail,"
u Thunder," and " Wind " occur as names, as they do among
the American Indians as shown by Catlin's portraits of
"The Koaring Thunder," "The Eed Thunder," " The Strong
Wind," "The Walking Rain." The inference here drawn,
therefore, harmonizing with all preceding inferences, is that
the initial step in the genesis of such a myth, would be the
naming of human beings Storm and Sunshine ; that from the
confusion inevitably arising in tradition between them and
the natural agents having the same names, would result this
personalizing of these natural agents, and the ascription to
them of human origins and human adventures : the legend,
once having thus germinated, being, in successive generations,
elaborated and moulded into fitness with the phenomena.

Let us now consider more closely which of these two
hypotheses is most congruous with the laws of mind, and
with the facts as various races present them.

§ 186. Human intelligence, civilized and savage, in
common with intelligence at large, proceeds by the classing
of objects, attributes, acts, each with its kind. The very
nature of intelligence, then, forbids the assumption that

NATURE-WORSHIP. 3G

°*3

primitive men will gratuitously class unlike things as akin
to one another. In proportion as the unlikeness is great
must there be great resistance to putting them in the same
group. And if things wholly unallied are bracketed as of the
same nature, some strong mental bias must furnish the
needful coercive force.

What likeness can we find between a man and a mountain ?
Save that they both consist of matter, scarcely any. The
one is vast, the other relatively minute ; the one is of no
definite shape, the other symmetrical ; the one is fixed, the
other locomotive ; the one is cold, the other warm ; the one
is of dense substance, the other quite soft; the one has
little internal structure and that irregular, the other is
elaborately structured internally in a definite way. Hence
the classing of them in thought as akin, is repugnant to the
laws of thought ; and nothing but unlimited faith can cause
a belief in their alleged relationship as progenitor and
progeny. There are, however, misinterpreted statements
which lead to this belief.

Read first the following passages from Bancroft : —

<; Ikiinam, the creator of the universe, is a powerful deity among the
Ghinooks, who have a mountain named after him from a belief that he
there turned himself into stone."

" The Californian tribes believe . . . the Navajos came to light from
the bowels of a great mountain near the river San Juan."

"The citizens of Mexico and those of Tlatelolco were wont to visit a
hill called Cacatepec, for they said it was their mother."

Of the Mexicans Prescott writes : — " A puerile superstition
of the Indians regarded these celebrated mountains as gods,
and Iztaccihuatl as the wife of her more formidable neigh-
bour," Popocatepetl. Of the Peruvians, who worshipped the
snow-mountains, we read that at Potosi " there is a smaller
hill, very similar to the former one, and the Indians say
that it is its son, and call it . . . the younger Potosi." Now
observe the clue to these beliefs furnished by Molina. He
says the principal huaca of the Tncas was that of the hill,
Huanacattri, whence their ancestors were said to have com-

366 TUB DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

inenccd their journey. It is described as * a great figure of
a man." " This huaca was of Ayar-cachi, one of the four
brothers who were said to have come out of the cave at
Tainpu.M And a prayer addressed to it was : — " O Huana-
enuri! our father, may . • . thy son, the Ynca, always
retain his youth, and grant that he may prosper in all he
undertakes. And to us, thy sons/' etc.

One way in which a mountain comes to be worshipped as
ancestor, is here made manifest. It is the place whence the
race came, the source of the race, the parent of the race : the
distinctions implied by the different words here used being,
in rude languages, inexpressible. Either the early progeni-
tors of a tribe were dwellers in caves on the mountain ; 01
the mountain, marking conspicuously the elevated region they
migrated from, is identified as the object whence they sprang.
We find this connexion of ideas elsewhere. Various peoples
of India who have spread from the Himalayas to the lower
lands, point to the snowy peaks as the other world to which
their dead return. Among some, the traditional migration
has become a genesis, and has originated a worship. Tims
the Santals regard the eastern Himalayas as their natal
region ; and Hunter tells us that " the national god of the
Santals is Marang Buru, the great mountain/' who is " the
divinity who watched over their birth," and who " is invoked
with bloody offerings."

When we remember that even now among ourselves, a
Scotch laird, called by the name of his place, is verbally
identified with it, and might in times when language was
vague have readily become confounded in legend with the
high stronghold in which he lived ; when we remember, too,
that even now, in our developed language, the word "de-
scend " means either coming down from a higher level or
coming down from an ancestor, and depends for its interpre-
tation on the context ; we cannot, in presence of the above
facts, doubt that mountain-worship in some cases arises from
mistaking the traditional source of the race for the tradi-

kature-wobship. 867

tional parentage of the race. This interpretation strengthens,
and is strengthened by, a kindred interpretation of tree-
worship given in the last chapter.

There is another possible linguistic cause for conceptions of
this kind. "Mountain" and ''Great Mountain" are used by
primitive men as names of honour : the king of Pango-Pango
(Samoa) is thus addressed. Elsewhere I have suggested
that a personal name arising in this way, may have initiated
the belief of the New Zealand chief, who claimed the neigh-
bouring volcano, Tongariro, as his ancestor: such ancestor
possibly having acquired this metaphorical name as expres-
sive of his fiery nature. One further fact may be added in
support of the belief that in some cases mountain- worship
thus arises as an aberrant form of ancestor- worship. Writing
of the Araucanians, and stating that "there is scarcely a
material object which does not furnish them with a discrimi-
native name " of a family, Thompson specifies " Mountains "
as among their family names.

$ 187. Save in respect of its motion, which, however, is of
utterly different character, the Sea has even less in common
with a man than a mountain has : in form, in liquidity, in
structurelessness, it is still more unlike a person. Yet the
Sea has been personalized and worshipped, alike in the
ancient East and in the West Arriaga says of the Peru-
vians that " all who descend from the Sierra to the plains
worship the sea when they approach it, and pull out the hair
of their eyebrows, and offer it up, and pray not to get sick."
Whence this superstition ?

We have inferred that confusing the derivation from a
place with the derivation of parenthood, has led to the
worship both of mountains and of the trees composing a
forest once dwelt in. Ocean- worship seems to have had, in
some cases, a parallel genesis. Though when we call sailors
"sea-men," our organized knowledge and developed lan-
guage save us from the error which literal interpretation

368 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

might cause; yet a primitive people on whose shores there
arrived unknown men from an unknown source, and who
spoke of them as " men of the sea," would be very apt thus
to originate a tradition describing them as coming out of the
sea or being produced by it The change from "men of
the sea" to "children of the sea" is an easy one— one
paralleled by figures of speech among ourselves ; and from
the name "children of the sea" legend would naturally
evolve a conception of the sea as generator or parent. Trust-
worthy evidence in support of this conclusion, I cannot
furnish. Though concerning Peruvians, the Italian Benzoni
says — "They think that we are a congelation of the sea,
and have been nourished by the froth ; " yet this statement,
reminding us of the Greek myth of Aphrodite, is attributed
to a verbal misconstruction of his. Still it may be held that
by a savage or semi-civilized people, who are without even
the idea of lands beyond the ocean-horizon, there can hardly
be formed any other conception of marine invaders, who
have no apparent origin but the ocean itself.

That belief in descent from the Sea as a progenitor some-
times arises through misinterpretation of individual names,
is likely. Indirect evidence is yielded by the fact that a
native religious reformer who appeared among the Iroquois
about 1800 was called " Handsome Lake ; " and if "lake"
may become a proper name, it seems not improbable that
" ocean " may do so. There is direct evidence too ; namely
the statement of Garcilasso, already quoted in another con-
nexion (§ 164), that the Sea was claimed by some clans of
Peruvians as their ancestor.

§ 188. If asked to instance a familiar appearance still less
human in its attributes than a mountain or the sea, we
might, after reflection, hit on the one to be next dealt with,
the Dawn, as perhaps the most remote imaginable : having
not ev»n tangibility, nor definite shape, nor duration. Was
the primitive man, then, led by linguistic needs to personalize

NATURE-WORSHIP. 369

the Dawn? And, having personalized it, did he invent a
biography for it ? Affirmative answers are currently given ;
but with very little warrant

Treating of the dawn-myth, Prof. Max Mtiller, in his
Lectures on the Science of Language, takes first Sarama as one
embodiment of the dawn. He quotes with qualified assent
Prof. Kuhn's " conclusion that Sarainft meant storm." He
does not doubt that " the root of Saram& is sar, to go." He
says : — " Admitting that Saram& meant originally the runner,
how does it follow that the runner was meant for storm ? "
Recognizing the fact that an allied word meant wind and
cloud, he alleges that this is habitually masculine in San-
scrit ; but admits that if the Veda gave Saram& the " qualities
of the wind n this incongruity " would be no insurmountable
objection." He then gives Saram&'s adventures in search of the
cows ; and says it yields no evidence that Saram& is " repre-
sentative of the storm/' After saying that in a fuller version
of the story, SaramU is described as "the dog of the gods " sent
by Indra " to look for the cows " — after giving from another
source the statements that Saramft, refusing to share the cows
with them, asks the robbers for a drink of milk, returns and
tells a lie to Indra, is kicked by him, and vomits the milk,
Prof. Max Miiller gives his own interpretation. He says : —

" This being nearly the whole evidence on which we must form our
opinion of the original conception of Sarama, there can be little doubt
that she was meant for the early dawn, and not for the storm."

Here, then, we have a sample of myth-rendering. It is
agreed that the root is sar, to go ; from which one distin-
guished philologist infers that Saram& meant the runner and
therefore the storm (allied words meaning wind and cloud) ;
while another distinguished philologist thinks this inference
erroneous. Saram& in the legend is a woman ; and in some
versions a dog. It is, however, concluded that she is the
dawn, because an epithet applied to her means quick ; and
because another epithet means fortunate; and because she
appears before Indra; and because of sundry metaphors

2 3

370 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

which, if cowb stand for clouds, may be applied figuratively
to mean the dawn. On the strength of these vague agree-
ments Prof. Max M tiller thinks —

" The myth of which we have collected the fragment* is dear enough.
It is a reproduction of the old story of the break of day. The bright
cows, the rays of the son or the rain-clouds — for both go by the same
name— have been stolen by the powers of darkness, by the Night and
her manifold progeny," eta, etc.

Thus, notwithstanding all the discrepancies and contradic-
tions, and though the root of the name gives no colour to the
interpretation, yet beeause of certain metaphors (which in
primitive speech are so loosely used as to mean almost any*
thing) we are asked to believe that men personalized a trans-
itory appearance as unlike humanity as can be conceived.

Whatever difficulties stand in the way of the alternative
interpretation, it has facts instead of hypotheses to start
from. It may be that sometimes Dawn is a complimentary
metaphorical name given to a rosy girl ; though I can give
no evidence of this. But that Dawn is a birth-name, we
have clear proof. Naming the newly-born from concurrent
events, we have seen to be a primitive practice. Of names
so originating among the Karens, Mason instances " Harvest,"
"February," "Father-returned" As we saw (§ 185), he
shows that times of the day are similarly utilized; and
among the names hence derived, he gives " Sunrise." South
America supplies an instance. Hans Stade was present at
the naming of a child among the Tupis, who was called
Koem — the morning (one of its forefathers having also been
similarly named) ; and Captain Burton, the editor, adds in a
note that Co^ma piranga means literally the morning-red or
Aurora, Another case occurs in New Zealand. ftangihaeata*
a Maori chiefs name, is interpreted " heavenly dawn ; "
(" lightning of heaven " being another chiefs name). If, then,
Dawn is an actual name for a person — if it has probably
often been given to those born early in the morning; the
traditions concerning one of such who became noted, would,

NATURE-WOBSHir.. 371

in the mind of the uncritical savage; lead to identification
with the Dawn ; and the adventures would be interpreted in
such manner as the phenomena of the Dawn made most
feasible. Further, in regions where this name had been
borne either by members of adjacent tribes, or by members
of the same tribe living at different times, incongruous gene-
alogies and conflicting adventures of the Dawn would result

§ 189. Is there a kindred origin for the worship of Stars ?
Can these also become identified with ancestors? This
seems difficult to conceive ; and yet there are facts justifying
the suspicion that it has been so.

The Jews regarded stars as living beings who in some
cases transgressed and were punished ; and kindred notions
of their animation existed among the Greeks. If we ask
for the earlier forms of such beliefs, which now appear so
strange, savages supply them. The Patagonians say "that
the stars are old Indians/' " In Fiji large ' shooting stars '
are said to be gods; smaller ones, the departing . souls of
men." The Hervey Islanders think that the ghosts of
warriors killed in battle, go to the top of a mountain and
"leap into the azure expanse, where they float as specks.
Hence this elysium of the brave is often called speckland "
[i.c.t star-land : they become stars]. The South Australians
think "the constellations are groups of children." "Three
stars in one of the constellations are said to have been
formerly on the Earth : one is the man, another his wife, and
the smaller one their dog ; and their employment is that of
hunting opossums through the sky." The implication that
human beings get into the heavens, recurs in the Tasma-
nian tradition that fire was brought by two black fellows,
who threw the fire among the Tasmanians, and after staying
awhile in the land, became the two stars, Castor and Pollux.
Possibly the genesis of this story was that the coupled lights
of these stars were fancied to be the distant fires lighted by
these men after they went away. Such a conception occurs

2 b 2

372 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

among the North Americans, who say that the Milky Way is
" the ' Path of Spirits/ ' the Road of Souls/ where they travel
to the land beyond the gTave, and where their camp-fires may
be seen blazing as brighter stars." It harmonizes, too, with
the still more concrete belief of some North Americans, that
their medicine-men have gone up through holes in the sky,
have found the Sun and Moon walking about there like
human creatures, have walked about with them, and looked
down through their peepholes upon the Earth below.

Definite explanation of such ideas is difficult so long as
we frame hypotheses only ; but it becomes less difficult when
we turn to the facts. These same peoples have a legend
yielding us a feasible solution. First noting that Robinson
describes certain other Californians as worshipping for their
chief god something in the form of a stuffed coyote, read this
legend of the Coyote, current among one of the Californian
tribes — the Cahrocs. The Coyote was —

"so proud that he determined to have a dance through heaven itself,
having chosen as his partner a certain star that used to pass quite close
by a mountain where he spent a good deal of his time. So he called out
to the star to take him by the paw and they would go round the world
together for a night ; but the star only laughed, and winked in an
excessively provoking way from time to time. The Coyote persisted
angrily in his demand, and barked and barked at the star all round
heaven, till the twinkling thing grew tired of his noise and told him to
be quiet and he should be taken next night. Next night the star came
quite up close to the cliff where the Coyote stood, who leaping was able
to catch on. Away they danced together through the blue heavens.
Fine sport it was for a while ; but oh, it grew bitter cold up there for a
Coyote of the earth, and it was an awful sight to look down to where the
broad Klamath lay like a slack bow-string and the Cahroc villages like
arrow-heads. Woe for the Coyote ! his numb paws have slipped their
hold on his bright companion ; dark is the partner that leads the dance
now, and the name of him is Death. Ten long snows the Coyote is in
falling, and when he strikes the earth he is ' smashed as flat as a willow*
mat' — Coyotes must not dance with stars.'1

When we remember that this conception of the heavens as
resting on, or adjacent to, the mountain tops, is general
among the uncivilized and semi-civilized ; and that access to

NATURE-WORSHIP. 373

the heavens after some such method as the one described,
presents no difficulty to the uncritical mind of the primitive
man ; the identification of stars with persons will seem less
incomprehensible. Though the ancestral coyote meets with
a catastrophe, like catastrophes are not necessarily alleged
of other ancestral animals who thus get into the heavens.
Special hills, and special groups of stars seen to rise from
behind them, being identified as those referred to in the
legends, the animal-ancestors said to have ascended may
become known as constellations; Here, at least, seems a
feasible explanation of the strange fact, that the names of
animals and men were, in early times, given to clusters of
stars which in no way suggest them by their appearances.

That misinterpretation of proper names- and metaphorical
titles has played a part in this case, as hi' other cases, is
possible. One of the Amazon tribes is called" Stars." The
name of a Dyak chief is rendered — "the bear of Heaven."
And in Assyrian inscriptions, Tiglath-pileser is termed " the
bright constellation," "the ruling constellation." Literal
acceptance of legends containing such names has, in the
earliest stages, probably lead to identification.

If ancestors, animal or human, supposed to have migrated
to the heavens, become identified with certain stars, there
result the fancies of astrology. A tribal progenitor so trans-
lated, will be conceived as still caring for his descendants ;
while the progenitors of other tribes (when conquest has
united many) will be conceived as unfriendly. Hence may
result the alleged good or ill fortune of being looked down
upon at birth by this or that star.

§ 190. Supposed accessibility of the heavens makes simi-
larly easy the identification of the Moon with a man or
with a woman.

Sometimes the traditional person is believed to reside
in the Moon ; as by the Loucheux branch of the Tinneh,
who, while supplicating him for success in hunting, say that

374 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

he " once lived among them as a poor ragged boy." More
frequently, however, there is an alleged metamorphosis.
The Esquimaux think Sun, Moon, and Stars " are spirits of
departed Esquimaux, or of some of the lower animals ; " and
the South Australians believe that the Sun, Moon, etc., are
living beings who once inhabited the earth. Clearly, then,
certain low races, who do not worship the heavenly bodies,
have nevertheless personalized these by vaguely identifying
them with ancestors in general. Biographies of the Moon
do not here occur; but we find biographies among races
which are advanced enough to keep up traditions. The
Chibchas say that when on Earth, Chia taught evil, and that
Bochica, their deified instructor, * translated her to heaven,
to become the wife of the Sun and to illuminate the nights
without appearing at daytime [on account of the bad things
she had taught], and that since then there has been a Moon."
The Mexican story was that, " together with the man who
threw himself into the fire and came .out the Sun, another
went in a cave and came out the Moon/'

Has identification of the Moon with persons who once
lived, been caused by misinterpretation of names ? Indirect
evidence would justify us in suspecting this, even were there
no direct evidence. In savage and semi-civilized mythologies,
the Moon is more commonly represented as female than as
male ; and it needs no quotations to remind the reader how
often, in poetry, a beautiful woman is either compared to the
Moon or metaphorically called the Moon. And if, in
primitive times, Moon was used as a complimentary name
for a woman, erroneous identification of person and object,
naturally originated a lunar myth wherever the woman so
named survived in tradition.

To this, which is a hypothetical argument, is to be added
an argument based on fact. Whether it supplies compli-
mentary names or not, the Moon certainly supplies birth-
names. Among those which Mason enumerates as given
by the Karens, is "Full Moon." Obviously, peoples who

NATURE-WORSHIP. S75

distinguish children by the incidents of their birth, using,
as in Africa, days of the week, and as we have seen in other
cases, times of the day, will also use phases of the Moon.
And since many peoples have this custom, birth-names derived
from phases of the Moon have probably been common, and
subsequent identifications with the Moon not rare.

And here a significant correspondence may be noted.
Birth-names derived from the Moon will habitually refer to
it either as rising or setting, or else as in one of its phases
— waxing, full, waning : a state of the Moon, rather than the
Moon itself, will be indicated. Now the Egyptian goddess
Bubastis, appears to have been the new Moon (some evidence
implies the full) — at any rate a phase. The symbolization
of Artemis expresses a like limitation ; as does also that of
Selene. And in his Mythology of the Aryan Nations, Sir
G. W. Cox tells us that 16 is " pre-eminently the horned "
or young Moon ; while Pandia is the fall Moon. How do
these facts harmonize with the current interpretation? Is
the tyranny of metaphor so great that, of itself, it compels
this change of personality ?

§ 191. Naturally, we may expect to find that, in common
with the Stars and the Moon, the Sun has been personalized
by identification with a traditional human being.

Already implied by some of the above-quoted statements
respecting the Moon, this is implied more distinctly by
statements now to be quoted TLe original parent of the
Comanches, like themselves but of gigantic stature, lives,
they say, in the Sun. So, too, " the Ghechemecas called the
Sun their father." Of the 01chones> Bancroft says — " The
sun here begins to be connected, or identified by name, with
that great spirit, or rather, that Big Man, who made the earth
and who rules in the sky ; " and he also says of the Tinneh
that " some of them believe in a good spirit called Tihugun,
'my old friend/ supposed to reside in the sun and in the
moon," By the Salive, one of the Orinoco tribes, the Sun is

37C TI1E DATA OF SOCIOLOGY*.

named "the man of the Earth above." Among the less

civilized American peoples, then, the implication of original

existence on Earth and subsequent migration to the sky, is

general only. Their conception is on a level with that of the

African (a Barotse), who, when asked whether a halo round

the Sun portended rain, replied — "0 no, it is the Barimo

(gods or departed spirits) who have called a picho ; don't you

see they have the Lord (sun) in the centre ? " : the belief

doubtless being that as the rest of the celestial assemblage

had once been on Earth, so, too, had their chief. But among

more advanced American peoples, the terrestrial personality

of the Sun is definitely stated : —

"According to the Indians [of Tlascala] the San was a god so
leprous and sick that he could not move. The other gods pitied him,
and constructed a very large oven and lighted an enormous fire in it, to
put him out of pain by killing him, or to purify him."

The Quicbi tradition is that after " there had been no sun in

existence for many years"

" the gods being assembled in a place called Teotihuacan, six leagues
from Mexico, and gathered at the time round a great fire, told their
devotees that he of them who should first cast himself into that fire,
should have the honour of being transformed into a sun."

There is a legend concerning the ancestor of the cazique of

Mizteca, who,

"shot there against the great light even till the going down of the
same ; then he took possession of all that land, seeing he had grievously
wounded the sun, and forced him to hide behind the mountains."

More specific still is a kindred story of the Mexicans, form-
ing the sequel to one above cited. When the god who
became the Sun by throwing himself into the fire, first rose,
he stood still ; and when the other gods sent a messenger
ordering him to go on,

" the Sun replied that it would not go on until it had destroyed them.
Both afraid and angry at this answer, one of them, called Citli, took a
bow and three arrows, and shot at its fiery head ; but the Sun stooped,
and thus avoided being hit The second time he wounded its body, and
also the third time. In rage, the Sun took one of the arrows and shot at
Citli, piercing his forehead, and thus killing him on the spot"

NATURE-WORSniP. 377

Nor does this exhaust the cases which Mexican traditions
furnish. After expounding the Sun-myths in which he
figures, Waitz concludes that " Quetzalcoatl was originally a
roan, a priest in Tula, who rose as a religious reformer among
the Toltecs, but was expelled by the adherents of Tezcatlipoca."

By the raythologists these stories, in common with kindred
stories of the Aryans, are said to result from personalizations
figuratively expressing the Sun's doings ; and they find no
difficulty in believing that men not only gratuitously ascribed
human nature to the Sun, but gratuitously identified him
with a known man. Doubtless the Mexican tradition " that
at one time there were five suns ; and the fruits of the earth
did not grow well, and the men died," will in some way be
explained as harmonizing with their hypothesis. Here, how-
ever, the interpretation adopted, like preceding interpreta-
tions, does not imply that these legends grew out of pure
fictions ; but that, however much transformed, they grew
out of facts. Even were there no direct evidence that
solar myths have arisen from misapprehensions of narratives
respecting actual persons, or actual events in human history,
the evidence furnished by analogy would warrant the belief.
But the direct evidence is abundant In some cases we are
left in doubt how the supposed connexion with the Sun
originated, as in the case of the Damaras, who have " five or
six different ' eandas ' or descents " — some " who come from
the sun," and some " who come from the rain ; " but in other
cases there is an obvious clue to the connexion.

One source of these solar myths, is the literal acceptance
of figurative statements concerning the quarter whence the
race came. Already we have concluded that emergence
of a people from a forest, confounded in tradition with
emergence from the trees forming it, has led to the worship
of trees as ancestors ; and that the story of migration from
a distant mountain has become, through detect of language,
changed into the story of descent from the mountain as a
progenitor. The like has happened with peoples who have

878 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

migrated from a locality marked by the Sun. Oa referring
to § 112, where are given the ideas of various peoples
respecting that other world whence their forefathers came,
and to which they expect to return after death, it will be
seen that its supposed direction is usually either East or
West : the obvious cause being that the places of sun-
rise and sunset, ranging through considerable angles of the
horizon on either side, serve as general positions to which
more northerly and southerly ones are readily approximated
by the inaccurate savage, in the absence of definite marks.
" Where the Sun rises in heaven," is said, by the Central
American, to be the dwelling-place of his gods, who were his
ancestors (§ 149) ; and the like holds in many cases. Of the
Dinneh (or Tinneh), Franklin says each tribe, or horde, adds
some distinctive epithet taken from the name of the river, or
lake, on which they hunt, or the district from which they
last migrated. Those who come to Fort Chipewyan term
themselves " Saw-eesaw-dinneh — Indians from the rising
Sun." Now may we not suspect that such a name as
" Indians from the rising Sun," will, in the legends of people
having an undeveloped speech, generate a belief in descent
from the Sun ? We ourselves use the expression " children
of light;" we have the descriptive name "children of the
mist " for a clan living in a foggy locality ; nay, we apply the
phrase " children of the Sun " to races living in the tropics.
Much more, then, will the primitive man in his poverty-
stricken language, speak of those coming from the place
where the Sun rises as " children of the Sun." That peoples
even so advanced as the Peruvians did so, we have proof.

u The universal tradition pointed to a place called Paccari-tampa, as
the cradle or point of origin of the Yncas. It was from Cuzco, the
nearest point to the sun-rising ; and as the sun was chosen as the
pacarisra [origin] of the Yncas, the place of their origin was at first
assigned to Paocari-tampu. But when their conquests were extended
to the Collao, they could approach nearer to the sun, until they beheld
it rising out of lake Titicaca ; and hence the inland sea became a second
traditional place of royal origin. "

NATUBE-WORSHIP. 879

When with this we join the facts that the Tncas, who other-
wise carried ancestor-worship to so great an extent, were
predominantly worshippers of the Sun as ancestor ; and that
when the Ynca died he was " called hack to the mansions of
his father, the Sun ; " we have warrant for concluding that
this belief in descent from the Sun resulted from misappre-
hension of the historical fact that the Ynca-race emerged
from the land where the Sun rises. Kindred evidence comes
from certain names given to the Spaniards. The Mexicans
"called Cortes the offspring of the Sun;" and as the
Spaniards came from the region of the rising Sun, we have a
like cause preceding a like effect. Though apparently not
for the same reason, the Panches, too, made solar heroes of
the Spaniards. "When the Spaniards first entered this
kingdom, the natives were in a great consternation, looking
upon them as the children of the Sun and Moon" says Herrera :
a statement made in other words of the Ghibchas by
Simon, and . by Lugo, who tells us that in their language,
" Sud means the Sun, and Sud the Spaniard. The reason
why this word sue is derived from sud is that the ancient
Indians, when they saw the first Spaniards, said that they
were children of the Sun."

In this case, too, as in preceding cases, misinterpretation
of individual names is a factor. In the essay which con-
tained a rude outline of the argument elaborated in the
foregoing chapters, I contended that by the savage and
semi-civilized, " Sun " was likely to be given as a title of
honour to a distinguished man. I referred to the fact that
such complimentary metaphors are used by poets : instancing
from Henry VIII the expression — " Those suns of glory,
those two lights of men ; " to which I might have added the

lines from Julius Ccesar —

" 0 setting sun,
As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night,
So in his red blood Cassias' day is set ;
The son of Borne is set ! "

And I argued that among primitive peoples speaking more

380 THE DATA OP SOCIOLOGY.

figuratively than we do, and greatly given to flattery, "the
Sun" would probably be a frequent name of laudation.
Facts justifying this inference were not then at hand ; but I
can now give several. Egyptian records furnish some of
them; as instance the address to the Egyptian king by
an envoy from the Bakhten — "Glory to thee, Sun of the
Nine bow barbarians, Let us live before thee ; " and then the
gods Amen, Horus and Turn, are all identified with the Sun.
Here, again, is a sentence from Prescott's Mexico.

" The frank and joyous manners [of Alvarado] made him a great
favourite with the Tlascalans ; and his bright, open countenance, fair
complexion, and golden locks gave him the name of Tonatiuh, the Sun."

The Peruvians gave a modification of the name to those
who were mentally superior ; as is shown by the statement
that they " were so simple, that any one who invented a new
thing was readily recognized by them as a child of the Sun."
And then we have evidence that in these regions the title,
sometimes given in compliment, was sometimes arrogantly
assumed. In the historic legend of the Central Americans,
the Popol Vuh, is described the pride of Vukub-Cakix, who
boasted that he was Sun and Moon.

Once more we have, as a root for a Sun-myth, the birth-
name. Among the Karens occurs the name " Yellow Rising
Sun;" and though Mason speaks of "a handsome young
person " as thus called, so implying that it is a compli-
mentary name, yet considering that these people use " Even-
ing," " Moon-rise," " Sun-rise," " Full Moon," as birth-names,
it seem probable that " Rising Sun " is a birth-name. Catlin's
portraits of North Americans yield some good evidence. There
is among them an Esquimaux man named " the Rising Sun,"
which, as the Esquimaux have no chiefs or warriors, is not
likely to have been a complimentary name ; and there is a
Minatarr^e girl called "The Mid-day Sun," which is not
likely to have been a title of honour for a girl. Manifestly
it would be anomalous were celestial incidents thus used,
with the exception of the most striking one.

NATUBE- WORSHIP. 381

And now mark a significant congruity and a significant
incongruity, parallel to those we marked in the case of the
Moon's phases. Birth-names taken from the Sun must
refer to the Sun at some part of his course — the rising Sun,
the soaring Sun, the setting Sun, according to the hour of
the birth ; and complimentary names taken from the Sun, may
express various of his attributes, as " the glory of the Sun,"
u the Sun's brightness/' etc. That names of this class have
been used is, indeed, a known fact. Among complimentary
titles of Egyptian kings in the Select Papyri, we find — " the
Sun of creation," "the Sun becoming victorious," "the Sun
orderer of creation." Hence no difficulty is presented by
the fact that "the Egyptians made of the Sun several
distinct deities ; as the intellectual Sun, the physical orb, the
cause of heat, the author of light, the power of the Sun, the
vivifying cause, the Sun in the firmament, and the Sun in his
resting-place." On the other hand, how do the mythologists
reconcile such facts with their hypothesis ? Was the linguis-
tic necessity for personalizing so great that eight distinct
persons were required to embody the Sun's several attributes
and states ? Must we conclude that the Aryans, too, were led
solely by the hypostasis of descriptions to suppose Hyperion,
" the high-soaring Sun," to be one individual, and Endymion,
" the Sun setting," to be another individual : both being inde-
pendent of " the separate divinity of Phoibos Apollon " ? Did
the mere need for concreting abstracts, force the Greeks to
think that when the Sun was thirty degrees above the horizon
he was one person who had such and such adventures, and
that by the time he had got within ten degrees of the horizon
he had changed into a person having a different biography ?
That the mythologists cannot think this I will not say ; for
their stores of faith are large. But the faith of others will, I
imagine, fall short here, if it has not done so before.

§ 192. When the genesis of solar myths after the manner
I have described, was briefly indicated as a part of the

382 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

general doctrine set forth in the essay above referred to,
sundry resulting correspondences with the traits of sucli
myths were pointed out The fact that conspicuous celestial
objects, in common with the powers of nature at large, were
conceived as male and female, was shown to be a sequence.
The fact that in mythologies the Sun has such alternative
names as " the Swift One," " the Lion," « the Wolf," which
are not suggested by the Sun's sensible attributes, was
shown to be explicable on the hypothesis that these were
additional complimentary names given to the same individual.
Further, the strange jumbling of celestial phenomena witli
the adventures of earth-born persons, was accounted for as
a result of endeavours to reconcile the statements of tradi-
tion with the evidence of the senses. And once more it
was suggested that by aggregation of local legends con-
cerning persons thus named, into a mythology co-extensive
with many tribes who were united into a nation, would
necessitate conflicting genealogies and biographies of the per-
sonalized Sun. While able then to illustrate but briefly
these positions, I alluded to evidence which was forthcoming.
Of such evidence I have now given an amount which
fulfils the tacit promise, made ; and goes far to justify the
inference drawn. I did not then, however, hope to do more
than make the inference highly probable. But while col-
lecting materials for the foregoing chapters, I have come
upon a passage in the records of the ancient Egyptians which,
I think, gives conclusiveness to the argument It is in the
third Sallier Papyrus. This document, recording the tri-
umphs of Ramses II, has already yielded us illustrations of
the ancient belief in the supernatural strength given by an
ancestral ghost who has become a god ; and more recently I
have quoted from it a phrase exemplifying the complimentary
application of an animal-name to a conquering monarch.
Here, from an address of the subjugated people, praying for
mercy, I quote in full the significant sentence : —
" Horus, conquering bulJ, dear to Ma, Prince guarding thy army*

NATURE-WORSHIP. 383

valiant with the sward, bulwark of his troops in day of battle, king
mighty of strength, great Sovran, Sun powerful in truth, approved of
Ba, mighty in victories, Ramses Miamon."

The whole process described above as likely to occur, is
shown in this record as actually occurring. Observe all the
correspondences. The deity to whom, as we saw, Bamses
says he has sacrificed 30,000 bulls, and to whom he prays
for supernatural aid, is regarded as his ancestor. " I call on
thee my father Ammon," he says ; and the defeated say to
him — " truly thou art born of Ammon, issue of his body."
Further, Bamses, described as performing the feats of a god,
is spoken of as though a god: the defeated call him " giver
of life for ever like his father Ba." Thus regarded as divine,
he receives, as we find warriors among the semi-civilized and
savage still doing, many complimentary titles and meta-
phorical names ; which, being joined to the same individual,
become joined to one another : Bamses is at once the King,
the Bull, the Sun. And while this record gives the human
genealogy of Bamses and his achievements on Earth, its
expressions point to his subsequent apotheosis; and imply
that his deeds will be narrated as the deeds of the " con-
quering bull " and of " the Sun." Bemembering that at the
deaths even of ordinary Egyptians, there were ceremonial
eulogies by priests and others, who afterwards, at fixed in*
tervals, repeated their praises ; we cannot doubt that in lau-
dations of a king who became a god after death, carried on
in still more exaggerated language than during his life,
there persisted these metaphorical titles: resulting in such
hymns as that addressed to Amen — " The Sun the true king
of gods, the Strong Bull, the mighty lover (of power)."

To me it seems obvious that in this legend of the victo-
rious Bamses, king, conqueror, bull, sun, and eventually god,
we have the elements which, in an early stage of civilization,
generate a solar myth like that of Indra; who similarly
united the characters of the conquering hero, the bull, the
sun. To say that when orally transmitted for generations

381 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

among a less-advanced people, a story such as this would not
result in a human biography of the Sun, is to deny a process
congruous with the processes we find going on; and is to
assume an historical accuracy that was impossible with a
language which, like that of the Egyptians even in historic
times, could not distinguish between a name and the act of
naming. While to allege, instead, that the Sun may not only
be affiliated on human parents, but may be credited with
feats of arms as a king, while he is also a brute, and this
solely because of certain linguistic suggestions, is to allege
that men disregard the evidence of their senses at the
prompting of reasons relatively trivial

§ 193. Little, then, as first appearances suggest it, the
conclusion warranted by the facts, is that Nature-worship,
like each of the worships previously analyzed, is a form of
ancestor-worship ; but one which has lost, in a still greater
degree, the external characters of its original

Partly by confounding the parentage of the race with a
conspicuous object marking the natal region of the race,
partly by literal interpretation of birth-names, and partly by
literal interpretation of names given in eulogy, there have
been produced beliefs in descent from Mountains, from the
Sea, from the Dawnf from animals which have become con-
stellations, and from persons once on Earth who now appear
as Moon and Sun. Implicitly believing the statements of
forefathers, the savage and semi-civilized have been com-
pelled grotesquely to combine natural powers with human
attributes and histories ; and have been thus led into the
strange customs of propitiating these great terrestrial and
celestial objects by such offerings of food and blood as they
habitually made to other ancestors.

CHAPTER XXV,

DEITIES,

§ 194. In the foregoing five chapters the genesis of deities
has been so folly set forth by implication, that there seems
no need for a chapter dealing directly with the subject. But
though we have dealt with those classes of deities in which
human personalities are greatly disguised, there remains to
be dealt with the class of those deities which have arisen by
simple idealization and expansion of human personalities. For
while some men have, by misinterpretation, of traditions, had
their individualities merged in those of natural objects ; the
individualities of other mea have survived with man-like
attributes.

This last class, always co-existing with the other classes,
eventually becomes predominant: probably,. as before hinted,
through the agency of proper names that are less and less
connotative and more and more denotative. So long as
men were named after objects around, they failed to survive
in tradition under their human forms; and the worship of
them as ancestors became the worship of the things they
were nominally identified with. But when there arose such
proper names as were not also borne by objects, men began
to be preserved in story as men. It became possible for
ghosts to retain their anthropomorphic individualities long
after the deaths of contemporaries; and so an anthropo-
morphic pantheon resulted.

Already, in the chapter on " Ancestor-worship in General/

20

"

386 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

the initiation of this class of deities has been indicated ; and
now, having traced the evolution of the other classes, we
must trace the evolution of this most important class.

§ 195. like an animal, a savage fears whatever is strange
in appearance or behaviour. Along with the unparalleled
quality he sees, there is no knowing what other unparalleled
qualities may go. He feels endangered by these capacities
which transcend those he is familiar with ; and behaves to the
possessor of them in a way betraying his consciousness of
danger. As we saw, he regards as supernatural whatever he
cannot comprehend. His mental attitude is well illustrated
by the two Bechuanas, who, when taken over a ship, said it
" was for certain an uncreated thing — a thing come of itself*
and never made by human hands." This supposed supeiv
naturalness of the unaccountable, holds alike of a remarkable
object and of a remarkable man. If the North American
Indians " do not understand anything, they immediately say
it is a spirit ; " and a man of special talent " is said to be a
spirit."

In various cases we find the native equivalent for god is
thus indiscriminately applied to an incomprehensible object
and to a person whose powers are incomprehensible. The
Fijian name for a divine being, kalou, means also " anything
great or marvellous.1' And while, in pursuance of this con-
ception, the Fijians declared a printing-press to be a god,
they also applied the word to their European visitors : " You
are a kalou" "Your countrymen are gods." So, too, it is
with the Malagasy, who speak of their king as a god, and by
whom whatever is new or useful or extraordinary is called a
god. Silk, " rice, money, thunder and lightning, and earth-
quakes, are all called gods. Their ancestors and a deceased
sovereign they designate in the same manner." A book, too,
i3 a god ; and " velvet is called by the singular epithet — Son of
God." It is the same with the man-worshipping Todas,
Respecting the meanings of Der9 Swdmi (gods, lords J. as

DEinua 387

used by them, Marshall says " there is a tendency for every-
thing mysterious or unseen to ripen into Dir ; cattle, relics,
priests, are . • . confused in the same category, until it
would seem that DSr, like Swdmi, is truly an adjective-noun
of eminence."

And now we shall no longer find it difficult to understand
how the title god, is, in early stages of progress, given to
men in ways which seem so monstrous. Not meaning by
the title anything like what we mean, savages naturally use
it for powerful persons, living and dead, of various kinds.
Let us glance at the several classes of them.

•

§ 196. We may fitly begin with individuals whose supe-

| riorities are the least definite — individuals who qj > regarded

by others, or by themselves, as better than the rest.

A typical case is furnished by the Todas above named.

) Col. Marshall, describing the p&lal, a holy milkman or priest

, among them, thus gives part of a conversation with one : —

! u 4 Is it true that Todas salute the sun?' I asked. ' Tschakh t ' he

\ replied, ' those poor fellows do so ; but me/ tapping his chest, ' I, a

god ! why should I salute the Sun ? ' At the time, I thought this a
j mere ebullition of vanity and pride, but I have since had opportunity

| of testing the truth of his speech. The palal for the time being is not

i merely the casket containing divine attributes, but is himself a Qod.n

And "the p&l&l, being himself a God, may with propriety
mention the names of his fellow-Gods, a licence which is per-
mitted to no one else to do." This elevation to godhood of a
j living member of the tribe, who has some undefined superi-

ority, is again exemplified in Central America. Montgomery
describes the Indians of Taltique as adoring such a god

"This was no other than an old Indian, whom they had dressed up
in a peculiar way, and installed in a hut, where they went to worship
him, offering him the fruits of their industry as a tribute, and perform-
ing in his presence certain religious rites, according to their ancient
practice."

Clearly people who are so awe-struck by one of their
number as to propitiate him in this way, probably under the

U2

388 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

belief that he can bring good or evil on them, may thus
originate a deity. For if the ghost in general is feared, still
more feared will be the ghost of a man distinguished during
life. Probably there is no ancestor-worship but what shows
this tendency to the evolution of a predominant ghost from
a predominant human being. We have seen how, by the
Amazulu, the remembered founder of the family is the one
chiefly propitiated ; and the implication is that this founder
was in some way superior. We have seen, too, how among
the Central Americans, Tamagastad and Cipattonal were the
remotest ancestors known; and their doings were probably
unusual enough to cause recollection of them. Here I may
add, as obviously of kindred origin, the god of the Kamscha-
dales. They " say that Kut, whom they sometimes call god
and sometimes their first father, lived two years upon each
river, and left the children that river on which they were
born, for their proper inheritance."

Such facts show us in the most general way, how the
conception of a deity begins to diverge from the con-
ception of a remarkable person ; feared during his life and
still more feared after his death. We will now pass to the
special ways in which genesis of this conception is shown.

§ 197. If, at first, the superior and the divine are equi-
valent ideas, the chief or ruler will tend to become a deity
during his life and a greater deity after his death* This
inference is justified by facts.

Already I have referred (§ 112) to the Maori chief who
scornfully repudiated an earthly origin, and looked forward
to re-joining his ancestors, the gods. It is thus elsewhere
in Polynesia. "I am a god," said Tuikilakila, the chief of
Somosomo, And of these Fijians, Williams says : —

" Indeed, there is very little difference between a chief of high rank
and one of the second order of deities. The former regards himself
very much as a god, and is often spoke of as such by his people, and,
on some occasions, claims for himself publicly the right of divinity."

So, too, the Tahitians give indirect praises to the king quite

DEITIES. 889

as exalted as any used in worship of deities. The king's

" houses were called the aorai, the clouds of heaven ; anuaxraa, the
rainbow, was the name of the canoe in which he voyaged ; his voice was
called thunder ; the glare of the torches in his dwelling was denominated
lightning; and when the people saw them in the evening, as they
passed near his abode, instead of saying the torches were burning in
the palace, they would observe that the lightning was flashing in the
clouds of heaven."*

The like holds in Africa. In Benin the king is not only the
representative of god upon earth, but god himself; and is
worshipped by his subjects in both natures. " The king of
Loango is respected like a deity, being called Samba and
Pongo, that is, God." The people of Msambara say — u We
are all slaves of the Zumbe [king] who is our Mulungu
[i;od]." So was it with the ancient American races. In Peru
Huayna Ccapac " was so feared and obeyed, that they almost
looked upon him as their god, and his image was set up in
many towns : " he " was worshipped of his subjects for a god,
being yet alive/' And the statement of Garcilasso that out
of various chiefs and petty kings, the good were worshipped,
is confirmed by Balboa. Nor do only races of inferior types
deify living men. Palgrave exemplifies deification of them
among the Semites as follows :—

" ' Who is your God ? ' said an Arab traveller of my acquaintance to
a Mesaleekh nomade, not far from Basra. ' It was F&dee,' answered
the man, naming a powerful provincial governor of those lands, lately
deceased ; * but since his death I really do not know who is God at the
present moment.' "

That Aryans have had like conceptions, we are reminded by
such facts as that Greek kings of the East, besides altars

• This passage from Ellis's Polynesian Researches, vol. iii, pp. 113, 114
(new edition), I commend to the attention of the mythologists. We are
shown by it another way in which nature-worship may readily arise from
ancestor-worship. As eulogies of a man after his death are apt to wax
rather than wane, it is olear that this indirect glorification of a Tahitian
king, surviving in legend, will yield evidence of his celestial nature ; and
when a king so Lauded already has a complimentary name derived from any-
thing in the heavens, these descriptions of his surroundings will join it in
producing a nature- myth.

390 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

erected to thera, had Oeo? stamped on their coins, and that
Roman emperors were worshipped when alive. Nay, cases
occur even now. When the Prince of Wales was in India,
Hindu poets "were apostrophizing him as an Avat&r, or
Incarnation of the Deity."

Of course, as above said, identification of the superior
with the divine, which leads to propitiation of living chiefs
and kings as gods, leads to more marked propitiation of
them after death. In Peru a dead king was immediately
regarded as a god, and had his sacrifices, statues, etc Of
the Yucatanese, Cogolludo, saying that Ytzamat was a great
king, adds : — " This king died, and they raised altars to him,
and it was an oracle which gave them answers." In Mexico
the people of Cholula considered Quetzalcoatl [feathered
serpent] " to be the principal god," and they " said that Quet-
zalcoatl, though he was a native of Tula, came from that
place to people the provinces of Tlaxcala, Huexotzingo
and Cholula." Again, " Huitzilopochtli, [' humming - bird,
left*] afterwards a supreme deity of the Aztecs . . . •
was originally a man, whose apotheosis may be clearly
traced." Polynesia supplies kindred illustrations.

The Sandwich Islanders regarded the spirit of one of their
ancient kings as a tutelar deity. In Tonga they hold " that
there are other Hotooas,or gods, viz., the souls of all deceased
nobles and matabooles, who have a like power of dispensing
good and evil, but in an inferior degree." And "the New
Zea landers believed that several high chiefs after death
became deified, and that from them all punishments in this
world for evil doings were sent." In Africa it is

the same. We have seen that among the Coast Negroes,
king Adolee looks for aid to the ghost of his father, and
that in Dahomey the living king sacrifices victims that they
may carry to the 1 tfce king in the other world, reports of what
has been done. That is, these dead kings have become gods.
In like manner the king of Shoa prays at his father's shrine ;
and " in Yoruba, Shango, the god of thunder, is regarded as a

DEITIES. 391

cruel and mighty king who was raised to heaven." Asia,
too, furnishes examples. Drew names a temple erected to
Golab Singh the conqueror.

Evidently, then, the apotheosis of deceased rulers among
ancient historic races, was but the continuation of a primitive
practice. When we learn that "Ramses Hek An (a name of
Ramses III) means ' engendered by Ea [Sun], prince of An
(Heliopolis)/ " and when, in the Hams papyrus, we find this
Itamses III saying of his father, " the gods appointed their
son arising from their limbs to (be) prince of the whole land
in their seat;" we cannot but recognize a more developed
form of those conceptions which savage and semi-civilized
exhibit all over the world. When in the Babylonian legend
of the flood, we, on the one hand, meet with the statements
— "the gods feared the tempest and sought refuge," "the
gods like dogs fixed in droves prostrate n (implying that the
gods differed little from men in their powers and feelings) ;
and when, on the other hand, we find that the conquering
Izdubar, the hero of the legend, afterwards becomes a god,
and that Bel, who made the deluge, was " the warrior Bel ; "
we cannot doubt that the early Babylonians, too, worshipped
chiefs who, gods while alive, became greater gods after
death.*

§ 198. Power displayed by the political head of a tribe,
and in higher stages of progress by a king, is not the only
kind of power. Hence, if at first the divine means simply
the superior, men otherwise distinguished than by chieftain-
ship, will be regarded as gods. Evidence justifies this con*
elusion. Sorcerers, and also persons who show unparalleled
skill, are deified.

• The later Babylonian beliefs of this cUws are implied by the following
passage from M&iant's translation of the great inscription of Nabuchad-
nesxar : — " Je snis Nabu-kudur-usur . . . le ills sinl de Nabu-pal-usur roi
de Bab-Do, Moi !" " La dieu Bel, lni-meme, m'a cree", le dieu Marduk qui
m'a engendre', a dupoaS lui-meme le germe de ma vie dans le sein de ma
mere*

392 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

That medicine-men, whose predominance has no other
origin than their craft, are treated as gods during their lives,
we have but little direct evidence. Sometimes, where the
medicine-man is also political head, he appears to be pro-
pitiated in both capacities; as in Loango, where the king
is god, and where " they believe he can give rain when he
lias a mind. In December the people gather to beg it of
him, every one bringing his present" But we have proof
that the medicine-man becomes a deity after death. Indeed,
some facts raise the suspicion that his ghost is the one which
first grows into predominance as a being to be feared. The
Fuegians, to whom otherwise no definite religious ideas are
ascribed, believe in "a great black man . . . wandering
about the woods and mountains, . . . who influences the
weather according to men's conduct:" evidently a deceased
weather-doctor. So, too, by the neighbouring Patagonians,
wandering demons are believed to be "the souls of their
wizards." A god of the Chippewas, Manabosho, is repre-
sented as sounding his magic drum and rattles " to raise up
supernatural powers to help him:" he uses in the other
world those appliances which, as a sorcerer, he used in this.
Again, the Cahrocs have " some conception of a great deity
called Chareya, the Old Man Above: ... he is described
as wearing a close tunic, with a medicine-bag." In Africa
the Damaras furnish a definite instance. Galton says —
" We passed the grave of the god Omakuru ; the Damaras
all threw stones on the cairn, . . . singing out, ' Father
OmakunL' " " He gives and withholds rain." The apotheosis
of the medicine-man in Polynesia, is shown by the Sand-
wich Islanders, who have a tradition that a certain man,
whom they deified after his death, obtained all their medi-
cinal herbs from the gods. To this man the doctors address
their prayers. So of the ancient Mexicans Mendieta writes —
" Others said that only such men had been taken for gods
who transformed themselves or , • . appeared in some other
shape, and in it spoke or did something beyond human

DEITIES. 393

power." And similarly in China, Taouism " deifies hermits
and physicians, magicians, and seekers after the philosopher's
stone," etc. But the best examples are furnished by our own
Scandinavian kinsmen. As described in the Heimskringla*
Odin was manifestly a medicine-man. We read that " when
Odin of Asaland came to the north, and the gods with him,"
he "was the cleverest of all, and from him all the others
learned their magic arts," We read further that when the
Vanaland people beheaded Memir, a man of great under-
standing, " Odin took the head, smeared it with herbs so that
it should not rot, and sang incantations over it. Thereby
he gave it the power that it spoke to him, and discovered to
him many secrets."

" Odin died in his bed in Sweden ; and when he was near his death
lie made himself be marked with the point of a spear, and said he was
going to Godheim, and would give a welcome there to all his friends,
and all brave warriors should be dedicated to him, and the Swedes
believed that he was gone to the ancient Asgaard, and would live there
eternally. Then began the belief in Odin and the calling upon
kim . . • Odin was burnt, and at his pile there was great splendour."

Niord of Noatun is also described as continuing the sacrifices

after Odin; and the Swedes believed he "ruled over the

growth of seasons/*

* Dr. Tylor on two occasions (Mind, April, 1877, and Academy, Jan. 27,
1883) has blamed me for quoting from the Heimskringla : giving the reason
that it is a work of the 18th century. Sir Gh Dasent who, among English-
men, is, I believe, second to none in knowledge of Norse literature, tells me
that the Heimskringla is a good authority, and allows me to repeat his
opinion. If folklore is to be disregarded because it is not quite 700 years
since it was written down, and if Tensions of pagan legends narrated by
Christians are not to be trusted as evidence (see Academy, as above), it
strikes me that an antagonist might make light of a large proportion of
Dr. Tylor's own conclusions. I may add that the inference drawn above is not
unsupported by other evidence. In the Volsuog Tale, as giren in the intro-
duction to Sir G-. Dasent' s Popular Tales from the Horse, Odin makes his
appearance as an ill-clad wanderer, and performs feats of magic. Dr. Tylor
apparently sees no meaning in correspondences which could not hare been
foreseen. Snorro Sturlaston knew nothing about the deification of medicine-
men and rulers in America and in Africa. Yet the traditions he records are
paralleled in -various respects by facts now found in these remote regions.
Is this mere accident ?

1

394 TUB DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

" In his time all the diars or gods died, and blood-sacrifices were
made for them. Niord died on the bed of sickness, and before he died
made himself be marked for Odin with the spear-point

" Freyr took the kingdom after Niord ; . . . there were good seasons
in all the land, which the Swedes ascribed to Freyr, so that he was
much more worshipped than the other gods. . . . Now when Freyr
died they bore him secretly into the mound, but told the Swedes he was
alive ; and they kept watch over him for three years. They brought all
the taxes into the mound. . . . Peace and good seasons continued.0

In these extracts there are various instructive implica-
tions. The dominant race, coming from the East, returned
there at death. While living they were worshipped; as
we see superior men are, and have been, elsewhere. Such
among them as were accounted powerful magicians, were
more especially worshipped. After death these gained the
character of great gods in virtue of their repute as great
medicine-men; and were propitiated for a continuance of
their supernatural aid. Of course, with the mythologists
these stories of the lives, deaths, and funeral rites, of reputed
magicians, go for nothing. They think them products of the
mythopoeic tendency; and are not astonished at the cor-
respondence between alleged fictions and the facts which
existing savages show us. I suppose they are prepared simi-
larly to dispose of the case of -SSsculapius, which shows us so
clearly an apotheosis of this kind. Referred to by Homer
as a doctor (in early stages synonymous with medicine-man)
and known at a later time as locally propitiated by a tribe
the members of which counted their links of descent from
him, he presently came to have songs and temples in his
honour, and eventually developed into a great god worshipped
throughout a wide region,

" As we advance into the Hellenistic and Roman periods, it is easy
to perceive that a vast change has come over the spirit of his divinity.
Everywhere in Asia his effigy begins to appear upon the currency, and
men have begun to invoke him, not only as a healer of bodily disease
and pain, but as a present help in every trouble, a rescuer from every
kind of ill The slave is emancipated in his temples; the sailor in
peril implores his aid, and to him the soldier ransomed from the foe
dedicates a thank-offering; men hail him Saviour. and King; and a$

DEITIES. 395

last the devctee, exalting him high above all gods, exclaims, ' Asklepios,
thou my master, whom I so often have invoked in prayer by night and
day/ 'great is thy power and manifold, for thou art He' who dost guide
and govern the Universe, Preserver of the world and Bulwark of the
immortal Gods ! "

In presence of such evidence of the development of a
doctor into a deity, harmonizing with that which existing
savage races furnish of the derivation of deities from medicine-
men, we may reasonably conclude that the stories concerning
the early doings of the Scandinavian gods originated in
distorted accounts of actual events — are not fictions due to
the need for personalizing the powers of nature.

Between the medicine-man and the teacher of new arts,
there is but a nominal distinction ; for, as we have seen, the
primitive man thinks that any ability beyond the ordinary
is supernatural : even the blacksmith is a kind of magician
to the African. Hence we may expect to find deifications of
those whose superiority was shown by their greater know-
ledge or skill; and we find them in many places. The
Brazilians " ascribe the origin of agriculture to their teacher
Tupan, who seems to be identical with the founder ... of
the race, and with the Supreme Being, so far as they have
any idea of such." A Chinook tradition is that " a kind and
powerful spirit called Ik&nam, . . . taught them how to make
canoes as well as all other implements and utensils ; and he
threw great rocks into the rivers and made falls, to obstruct
the salmon in their ascent, so that they might be easily
caught." The Mexican god Quetzalcoatl was "a divinity
who, during his residence on earth, instructed the natives in
the use of metals, in agriculture, and in the arts of govern-
ment." Further, the Mexicans apotheosized Chicomecoatl as
the first woman who made bread ; Tzaputlatena as the invent-
ress of the vxitl-resin; Opuchtli as the inventor of some
fishing implements ; Tiacatecutli as the originator of trade •
and Napatecutli as the inventor of rush mats. The Central
Americans, too, had their gods and goddesses Chac, Ixazal-
voh, Itzamna, Ixchebelyax, who were the inventors of agri-

9

96 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

culture, of cotton-weaving, of letters, of painting. In the
earliest records of historic peoples we meet with like facts.
The Egyptian gods, Osiris, Ombte, Neph, and Thoth are said
to have taught arts. The Babylonian god Oannes is simi-
larly represented as having been an instructor. And it is
needless to enumerate the Greek and Roman deities described
as teachers of one or other new process, or inventors of this
or that new appliance.

Still, then, we have the same truth under another aspect
Power exceeding previously-known powers, excites awe ; and
the possessor of it, feared during his life, is still more feared
after his death.

§ 199. In treating of those who, within the tribe, as
medicine-men, or men of unusual ability, have acquired
repute leading to deification, I have unawares entered on the
next class of facts — facts showing us that the immigrant
member of a superior race becomes a god among an inferior
race.

At the present time it occasionally happens that Euro-
peans, such as shipwrecked sailors or escaped convicts,
thrown among savage peoples, gain ascendency over them by
the knowledge and skill they display ; and when we remem-
ber that after the deaths of such men, their powers, exalted
in legend, are sure to make their ghosts feared more than
ordinary ghosts, we shall recognize another source from
which deities arise. That men of low type even now class
strangers of high type as gods, we have abundant proofs.
It is said by the Bushmen — " Those white men are children
of God ; they know everything." The East Africans exclaim
to Europeans — " Truly ye are gods;" and Europeans are thus
spoken of in Congo. A chief on the Niger, seeing whites for
the first time, thought them "children of heaven." When
Thompson and Moffat wished to see a religious ceremony
peculiar to the Bechuana women, the women said — " These
are gods, let them walk in." Even among so superior an

DEITIES, 397

African race as the Fulabs, some villagers, says Barth, " went
so far as to do me the honour , . . of identifying me with
their god 'F£te,' who, they thought, might have come to
spend a day with them " (staying to dinner, like Zeus with
the Ethiopians). Other races furnish kindred instances.
Some Khond women said of Campbell's tent — "It is the
house of a god." The " Nicobarians have such a high idea of
the power of Europeans, that to them they attribute the
creation of their islands, and they think it depends on them
to give fine weather."* Remarking of the Fijians that " there
appears to be no certain line of demarcation between gods
and living men," Erskine tells us that one of the chiefs said
to Mr. Hunt — " If you die first, I shall make you my god."
Mr. Alfred Wallace, who has had extensive opportunities of
studying primitive men, says of the Ami Islanders —

"I have no doubt that to the next generation, or even before, I
myself shall be transformed into a magician or a demi-god, a worker of
miracles, and a being of supernatural knowledge. They already believe
that all the animals I preserve will come to life again ; and to their
children it will be related that they actually did so. An unusual spell
of fine weather setting in just at my arrival, has made them believe I
can control the seasons."

And then, lastly, we have the fact that an apotheosis like that
which Mr. Wallace anticipates, has already occurred in a
neighbouring island. The Dyaks attribute supernatural power
to Eajah Brooke : he is invoked along with the other gods.

With such abundant proofs that the genesis of gods out of
superior strangers is now going on, we cannot, without per-
versity, regard as fictions those stories found in many
countries, which represent certain gods as having brought
knowledge and arts from elsewhere. The Mexican god,
Quetzalcoatl, who came from the west, was "a tall white
man, with broad forehead, large eyes, long black hair, and
great round beard" who, having instructed them and re*

• I hare had brought to me from the locality, a photograph of Nicobar*
Mola, among which there are grotesque, and yet characteristic, figures of
Englishmen,

398 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

formed their manners, departed by the way he catne. So,
too, the great god of the Chibchas, Bochica, was a white man
with a beard, who gave them laws and institutions, and who
disappeared after having long lived at Sogamoso. In South
America it is the same. Humboldt tells us that " Amalivaca,
the father of the Tamanacs, that is, the creator of the human
race (for every nation regards itself as the root of all other
nations) arrived in a bark." He afterwards re-embarked.

In some cases the remarkable strangers who thus become a
people's gods, are regarded as the returned ghosts of their own
remarkable men. Ghosts and gods being originally undiffe-
rentiated in thought ; and neither of them being always dis-
tinguishable from living persons ; it happens, as was shown
in § 92, that the whites are, by Australians, Polynesians, and
Africans, held to be the doubles of their own dead. When we
read that among the Wanikas, "Mulungu," the word ap-
plied like the Kaffir " Uhlunga " to the Supreme God, also
denotes any good or evil revenant; we see how it happens
that Europeans are called indiscriminately ghosts and gods.
Hence the naturalness of the fact that in the Sandwich

m

Islands, when " Captain Cook arrived, it was supposed, and
reported, that the good Bono was returned, hence the people
prostrated themselves before him." Hence, too, the idea
implied by Camargo's account of the Mexicans, that, "as
soon as the Spaniards had disembarked, news came to the
very smallest villages that the gods had arrived :" the belief
being " that their god Quetzalcoatl had come " back with his
companions. And hence, again, the reason that the Chibchas
at Turmeque " showed to the Spaniards the veneration and
worship they showed to the gods, making incense to them."

Thus we find re-illustrated under other conditions, the
same general truth that the primitive god is the superior
man, either indigenous or foreign ; propitiated during his life
and still more after his death.

§ 200. From this deification of single men of higher races,

DEITIES. 309

there is a natural transition to the deification of conquering
races, not individually but bodily. The expression "gods
and men," Occurring in the traditions of various peoples, is
made readily interpretable.

We assume that, as a matter of course, every tribe of
savages has a word meaning a human being, applicable
equally to members of their own tribe and to members of
other tribes; but, as usual, we are misled by assimilating
their thoughts and language to ours. Often their name for
men is their tribal name. Already we have seen that in
South America, among the Guaranis, the same word means
man and Guarani The North American people who call
themselves Thlinkeets, have no word but this to signify
human beings ; and an adjacent people, the Tinneh, furnish a
parallel case. Pirn and Seemann tell us that —

" The distinctive appellation of the Mosquitoes amongst themselves
is 'Waikna* 'man/ and all the other tribes imitate them in thi»
conceit ; indeed, it is a common practice amongst the Indians of the
.American continent, from the dwellers furthest north, Esquimaux, who
call themselves * Innuit ' * men/ par excellence, as far south as the
<Araucanians, the Patagonians, and even the wretched natives of Tien a
del Fuego."

Similarly in Africa, the native name for the Kaffir tribes is
Abantu, Bantu (plural of ntu, a man) ; and for the Hottentot
tribes the designation is Koi-koin (i.e., " men of men/' from
koi, a man). In Asia it is thus with the Karens : " a few of
the tribes only have distinctive names for themselves, and
all, when speaking of each other, use the word for man to
designate themselves." The Kamschadales, again, " have no
designation either for themselves or their country. They
called themselves simply men, as considering themselves
either the only inhabitants of the earth, or so far surpassing
all others as to be alone worthy of this title." Indeed,
Nilsson, generalizing such facts, says that " all rude nations
apply the designation 'men' to themselves only, all others;
being differently designated."
What will happen when savaged who call themselves

\1

400 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

"men" are conquered by savages otherwise called, bat
proved by the conquest to have that superiority which in the
primitive mind is equivalent to divinity? Clearly, the
names of conquering and conquered will become equivalent
in their meanings to " gods and men." In some cases, indeed,
the name by which the conquerors call themselves will
necessitate this. We read of the Tupis that " Tupa is their
word for father, for the Supreme Being, and for thunder; it
passed by an easy process from the first of these meanings to
the last, and the barbarous vanity of some tribes compounded
from it a name for themselves." So that if these children
of Tupa, which means " children of God," subjugate a people
whose name is equivalent to "men," the distinction of the
two as " gods and men " becomes inevitable.

With such evidence before us, what shall we think about
the "gods and men" who figure in the legends of higher
races ? On learning from Nilsson that in Scandinavia there
are distinct traces of the antagonism of aboriginal races to
colonists, as early as the stone and bronze periods ; and
on then reading in Scandinavian traditions about Odin,
Freyr, Niord, and the rest, coming from Godheim (god's-home
or land) to Menheim (men's-home or land); ruling there
and being worshipped ; dying there believing that they were
going back to Godheim, just as barbarous peoples everywhere
believe that they return after death to fatherland ; we shall
conclude that these " gods and men " were simply conquering
and conquered races: all mythological interpretations not-
withstanding. When we.find that, as given by Pausanias, a
popular legend among the Greeks was that the ancient
Arcadians " were guests and table-companions of the gods,"
we shall not set this down as a fiction devised after the gods
had been created by personalizing the powers of nature ; but
shall infer that the tradition had its root in those conquests
of earlier races by later implied in Hesiod — conquests such
as must certainly have been going on, and must certainly
have left exaggerated narratives. So, too, when " the sons of

DEITIES. 401

god saw the daughters of men " in Hebrew story. If we
recall the reprobation which has everywhere been visited
on the intermarriage of a conquering caste and a subject caste
— if we remember that in Greek belief it was a transgres-
sion for the race of gods to fall in love with the race of men
— if we add the fact that in our own feudal times union of
nobles with serfs was a crime ; we shall have little difficulty
in seeing how there originated the story of the fall of the
angels.

Any one who, after considering this evidence, remembers
that from the names and natures ascribed by existing savage
peoples to Europeans, legends of "gods and men" are even
now arising, will, I think, scarcely hesitate. Remaining
doubt will disappear on reading the legend of the Quiches,
which gives, with sufficient clearness, the story of invaders
who, seizing an elevated region, and holding in terror the
natives of the lower lands, became the deities of the surround-
ing country, and their mountain residence the local Olympus.
(See Appendix A.)

§ 201. This brings us once more to the Aryan gods, as
seen from another point of view. That we may judge which
hypothesis best fits the facts, let us observe how the early
Greeks actually conceived their gods : ignoring the question
how they got their conceptions. And let us compare their
pantheon with the pantheon of another race — say that of the
Fijians. Any one who objects to the comparison as insulting,
needs only to be reminded that cannibalism was ascribed to
some of their deities by the Greeks ; and that human sacrifices
to Zeus were continued down to late times.

The Greek god is everywhere presented to us under the
guise of a powerful man; as is the Fijian. Among the
Fijians, "gods sometimes assume the human form, and are
thus seen by men ;" and how common was a like theophany
among the Greeks, the Iliad shows us page after page. So
like a man was the Greek god, that special insight, super-

2 D

402 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

naturally given, was required to distinguish him ; and, as we
have seen, it is difficult to find what is the difference between
a god and a chief among the Fijians. In the Fijian pantheon
there are grades and divided functions— a chief god, media-
ting gods, gods over different things and places : thus paral-
leling the Greek pantheon, which was a hierarchy with a
distribution of ranks and duties. Fijian deities may be
classed into gods proper and deified mortals — some whose
apotheosis has dropped out of memory and some whose
apotheosis is remembered; and there were apotheosized
mortals, too, among the Greek deities. A descriptive title
of one of the Fijian gods is " the Adulterer " — a title applic-
able to sundry Greek gods. Another name is " the Woman-
stealer" — a name not undeserved by Zeus. Yet a further
sobriquet borne by a Fijian god is "Fresh-from-the-slaughter;"
which would answer for Ares, who is called "the Blood-
stainer." The Fijian gods love and hate, are proud and
revengeful, and make war, and kill and eat one another ; and
if we include the earlier generations of Greek gods, kindred
atrocities are told of them. Though fighting does not remain
conspicuous, still there is the conspiracy from which Zeus
was saved by Thetis ; and there is perpetual squabbling and
vituperation: even Zeus being vilified by his daughter
Athene, as well as by the divine shrew Here. The Fijian
gods play one another tricks, as did also the gods of the
Greeks. Sometimes the Fijians " get angry with their deities
and abuse and even challenge them to fight;" and among the
Greeks, too, there was abuse of the gods even to their faces,
as of Aphrodite by Helen, and if there was not challenging
to fight, still there was fighting with, and even victory over,
gods, as of Diomede over Ares, and there was threatening
of gods, as when Laomedon refusing to pay Poseidon his
wages, said he would cut off his ears. The Fijians have a
story of a god who tumbled out of a canoe, and, being picked
up by a woman, was taken to a chiefs house to dry himself
story against which we may set that of Dionysus, who,

DEITIES. 403

frightened by the Thracian Lycurgus, took refuge in the sea,
and who when seized by pirates was carried bound on board
their vessel Though Dionysus unbound himself, we are
reminded that in other cases gods remained subject to men ;
as was Proteus, and as was even Ares, when Otus and
Ephialtes kept him in prison thirteen months, and as was
Apollo when a slave to Laomedon. Thus, however material
and human are the Fijian gods, living, eating, acting as men
do ; the gods of the Greeks are represented as no less material
and human. They talk, and banquet, and drink, and amuse
themselves during the day, and go to bed at sunset : " the
Olympian thunderer, Zeus, went to his couch" and slept.
They are pierced by men's weapons. Ares' wound is healed
by a "pain-assuaging plaster;" and Aphrodite, after some
loss of blood and being distracted with pain, borrows her
brother's chariot and drives off to Olympus to be similarly
doctored. All their attributes and acts are in keeping with
this conception. In battle Here simulates Stentor in appear-
ance and voice ; Apollo shouts from Pergamus to exhort the
Trojans: Iris comes "running down from Olympus;" and
the celestial chariots, made in earthly fashion of earthly
materials, are drawn by steeds that are lashed and goaded,
through the gates of Heaven which creak. The single fact
that Zeus is on visiting terms with « the milk-fed men of
Thrace," suffices of itself to show how little the divine was
distinguished from the human, and how essentially parallel
were the Greek conceptions to the conceptions which the
Fijians now show us.

Here, then, is the question. Similar as these conceptions
are, were they similarly generated ? Beyond all doubt the
Fijian pantheon has arisen by that apotheosis of men which
was still going on when travellers went among them ; and if*
we say that by the Greeks, who also apotheosized men, a
pantheon was generated in like manner, the interpretation js
consistent We are forbidden to suppose this, however.
These Greek gods, with their human structures, dispositions,

2 D 2

■404 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

acts, histories, resulted from the personalization of natural
objects and powers. So that, marvellous to relate, identical
conceptions have been produced by diametrically opposite
processes! Here we see an ascending growth of men into
gods; there we see a descending condensation of natural
powers into gods ; and the two seta of gods, created by these
two contrary methods, are substantially the same !

Even in the absence of all- the foregoing chapters, those
who are not wedded to an hypothesis will, I think, say that
evidence widely different in amount and quality from that
which the mythologists offer, is required. to demonstrate so
astonishing a coincidence.

§ 202. Must we recognize a single exception to the general
* truth thus far verified everywhere ? While among all races
in all regions the conceptions of deities have been naturally
evolved in the way shown ; must we -conclude that a small
clan of the Semitic race had given to it supernaturally, a
conception which, though superficially like the rest, was in
substance absolutely unlike them ?

Education, the social sanction, and an authority possessed
of imposing credentials, lead nearly all to assume that the
genesis of their own idea of deity differs fundamentally from
the genesis of every other idea. So unhesitatingly, indeed,
do they assume this, that they think it impious to ask
whether any parallelism exists. In the case of another
creed they can see the mischief which arises from refusal to
examine. The saying of Euripides that "in things which
touch the gods it is not good to suffer captious reason to
intrude," will readily draw from them the remark that a
faith profound enough to negative criticism, fosters super-
stition. Still more on finding that the cannibal Fijians,
accepting humbly the established dogmas respecting their
blood-thirsty deities, assert that "punishment is sure to over-
take the sceptic ;" they can see clearly enough how vile may
be the belief which defends itself by interdicting inquiry,

DEITIES. 405

but, looking at the outsides of other creeds, antagonistically,
and at their own creed from within, sympathetically, they
cannot think it possible- that in -their case a kindred mischief
may result from a kindred cause. On reading that when the
Spaniards arrived in Mexico, the natives, thinking them
gods, offered up human beings to them? it is allowable to ask
whether the ideas and motives of thesfe^people were analogous
to those of the Scandinavian king On-, when he immolated
his son to Odin; but it-is not allowable ^'to ask whether like
ideas and motives prompted Abraham's intention to sacrifice
Isaac. The above-cited fact that Barth was taken by the
Fulahs for their god, F£te, may properly raise the question
whether, if there had arisen a quarrel between his party and
the Fulahs in which he was worsted by one of their chiefs,
there might not have grown up a legend akin to that which
tells how the god Ares was worsted by Diomede ; but it is
highly improper to raise the question whether the story of
Jacob's struggle with the Lord had an origin of allied kind.
Here, however, pursuing the methods of science, and dis-
regarding foregone conclusions, we must deal with the
Hebrew conception in the same manner as with all others ;
and must ask whether it had not a kindred genesis.

What the primitive Semitic notion of a deity was, we may
prepare ourselves to see by contemplating the notion of a
deity which is entertained by wandering Semites at the
present time. Already I have quoted from Mr. Palgrave one
illustration of it, and here is another.

"'What will you do on coming into God's presence for judgment
after so graceless a life V said I one day to a spirited young Sherarat.
• . • 'What will we do?' was his unhesitating answer, 'why, we will
go up to God and salute him, and if he proves hospitable (gives us meat
and tobacco), we will stay with him ; if otherwise, we will mount our
horses and ride off.' . • . Were I not afraid of an indictment for pro- -
fineness, I might relate fifty similar anecdotes at least"

Clearly, then> the -existing Semitic-idea of deity, is no higher
than that which other races have shown us ; and the question
is, whether the ancient Semites had an idea not only abso-

406 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

lutely unlike that of all other races but absolutely unlike
that of their modern kindred.

To find a clear answer in traditions recorded by different
writers at different dates — traditions with which are incor-
porated stories and conceptions derived from adjacent more
civilized peoples; is of course difficult. The difficulty is
increased by the established habit of carrying back developed
ideas to the interpretation of early statements ; as by com-
mentators who explain away certain highly concrete descrip-
tions of divine actions as " anthropomorphic language suited
to the teaching of man in a state of simple and partial civil-
ization." If, however, we reject non-natural interpretations,
and infer, as analogy warrants, that the most crudely anthro-
pomorphic descriptions are the original ones, we shall find
the difficulty less.

Abraham is described as doing that which primitive men,
and especially nomads, are often compelled to do by increase
of numbers — leaving his kindred and migrating to a new
dwelling-place : separating, as he afterwards separated from
Lot, to get pasturage. That he thinks himself supernaturally
prompted, apparently by a vision, recalls the ideas of kindred
Semites now existing, of whom Baker tells us that " if in a
dream a particular course of action is suggested, the Arab
believes that God has spoken and directed him." The new
territory he migrates to, the story represents as made over to
him; and the question is — Was Abraham dealing with a
terrestrial potentate, or with the Power by which planets
gravitate and stars shine ?

The words applied to this giver of the territory are
expressive simply of superiority. Mohim, in some cases
translated gods, is applied also to kings, judges, powerful
persons, and to other things great or high. So, too, Adonai
is indiscriminately used (as " Lord" is among ourselves), to
a being regarded as supernatural and to a living man.
Kuenen says the meaning of Shaddai is " ' the mighty one,'
or perhaps still more exactly, 'the violent one:"' a title

DEITIES., 407

harmonizing with the titles of Assyrian kings, who delight in
comparing themselves to whirlwinds and floods. Even the
more exalted names find their parallels in those of neigh-
bouring rulers. When, in the cuneiform inscriptions, we
find Tiglath-pileser called " king of kings, lord of lords/9 we
see that there is nothing exceptional in the title "god of
gods, and lord of lords, a great god, a mighty and terrible : " a
description implying that the Hebrew god is one of many,
distinguished by his supremacy.

By this being who bears titles such as are borne by ter-
restrial potentates, Abraham is promised certain benefits to
be given in return for homage. When he complains that
the promise has not been fulfilled, he is pacified by renewed
promises. Finally, a covenant is made — Abraham is to have
H all the land of Canaan/' while the giver is " to be a god
unto" him. The supposition that such an agreement was
entered into between the First Cause of things and a shepherd
chief, would be an astounding one were it admissible; but
it is excluded by the words used. The expression " a god "
negatives the conception on either side of a supreme universal
power. If, however, instead of supposing that "a god" is
here used to mean a supernatural being, we suppose that it is
used, as by the existing Arab, to mean a powerful ruler, the
statement becomes consistent

Still more clearly have we the same implications in the
ceremony by which the covenant is established. Abraham,
and each of his male descendants, and each of his male
slaves, is circumcised. The mark of the covenant, observe,
is to be borne not only by Abraham and those of his blood,
but also by those of other blood whom he has bought The
mark is a strange one, and the extension of it is a strange
one, if we assume it to be imposed by the Creator of the
Universe, on a favoured m^n and his descendants; and on
this assumption it is no less strange that the one trans-
gression for which every " soul shall be cut off/' is not any
crime, but is the neglect of this rite. Such a ceremony,

408 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

however, insisted on by a living potentate under penalty of
death, is not strange ; for, as we shall hereafter see, circum-
cision is one of various mutilations imposed as marks on
subject persons by terrestrial superiors.

And now, passing from collateral to direct evidence, ob-
serve the idea which Abraham is himself represented as
forming of this being with whom he has covenanted. While
he sat at his tent door, " three men stood by him/' Nothing
implies that they were unlike other men or much unlike one
another. He "bowed, himself toward the ground/' and
addressed one of them " my lord." Asking them to rest and
to wash their feet, he said he would " fetch a morsel of bread,
and comfort ye your hearts." So that, regarding them as
tired, travel-stained, and hungry travellers, Abraham treats
these "three men" according to those rites of hospitality
still observed by the Arabs. There is no indication that
Abraham suspects supernaturalness in any of the three ; nor,
when Sarah laughs at the promise that she shall have a son,
does it seem that she, either, imagines she is in the presence
of anything more than a human being. It is true that
Abraham, addressing this visitor with the title given to
superior persons, believes him able to do things we class
as supernatural — ascribes to him the character common to
primitive potentates, who are frequently magicians as well
as rulers, like Solomon — ascribes to him powers such as
savages now think are possessed by Europeans. But though,
while showing him the road to Sodom, Abraham talks in a
way implying this belief, he implies no more. The question,
mark, is not that which theologians raise — Who actually
were these " three men ? " was the chief of them Jehovah ?
or his angel ? or the Son ? The question is what Abraham
thought; or is described as thinking by those who preserved
the tradition. Either alternative has the same ultimate im-
plication. If this person to whom Abraham salaams as his
lord, with whom he has made the covenant, is a terrestrial
ruler, as implied by the indirect evidence, the conclusion is

DEITIES. 409

reached that the ancient Semitic idea of a deity was like
the modern Semitic idea cited above. And if, otherwise,
Abraham conceives this person not as a local ruler but as the
Maker of All Things, then he believes the Earth and the
Heavens are produced by one who eats and drinks and feels
weary after walking: his conception of a deity still remains
identical with that of his modern representative, and with
that of the uncivilized in general

§ 203. And so the universality of anthropomorphism has
the sufficient cause that the divine man as conceived, had
everywhere for antecedent a powerful man as perceived.
The abundant evidence above given that the primitive mind
frames the notion in this way, may be enforced by facts
showing that it fails to frame any other notion.

When Burton, encamped among the Eesa, heard an old
woman with the toothache exclaiming, " 0 Allah, may thy
teeth ache like mine" — when he tells us that the wilder
Bedouins ask where Allah is to be< found that they may
spear him, " because he lays waste their homes and kills their
cattle " — when, according to Moffat, the Hottentots, notwith-
standing missionary instruction, regard the Christian god as
"a notable warrior of great physical strength" — when, as
Hunter narrates, a Santal, responding to a missionary's
account of God's omnipotence, said, " and what if that Strong
One should eat me ;" we are not only taught that the unde-
veloped mind conceives God as a powerful man, but that it
is incapable of any higher conception. Even a people so
cultured as the ancient Egyptians failed to conceive of gods
as differing fundamentally from men. Says Renouf — " All
the gods are liable to be forced to grant the prayers of men,
through fear of threats which it is inconceivable to us that
any intelligence but that of idiots should have believed."

A like implication everywhere meets us in the aboriginal
belief that gods are mortal In a Quich£ legend, given by
Bancroft, we read — " so they died like gods ; and each left

410 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

to the sad and wondering men who were his servants, his
garments for a memorial" The writers of the Yedic hymns,
says Muir, "looked upon the gods" as "confessedly mere
created beings ;" and they, like men, were made immortal by
drinking soma. In the legend of Buddha it is stated that
the prince, inquiring about a corpse, was told by his guide —
" This is the final destiny of all flesh : gods and men, rich
and poor, alike must die." We saw that the Scandinavian
gods died and were burnt — returning thereafter to Asgard.
So, too, the Egyptian gods lived and died : there are frescoes
at Phihe and at Abydos showing the burial of Osiris. And
though in the Greek pantheon, the death of gods is exempli-
fied only in the case of Pan, yet their original mortality is
implied by the legends ; for how could Apollo have been a
slave to Laomedon, if he then had that power of assuming
and thro wing-off the material form at will, which is possessed
in common by the Greek god and the primitive ghost ?

How deeply rooted are these ideas of deities, is further
shown by the slowness with which culture changes them.
Down to civilized times the Greeks thought of their gods as
material persons. About 550 B.C. they believed in a living
woman palmed upon them as Athene; and in 490 B.a, to
Phidippides on his way from Athens to Sparta, Pan, meeting
him, complains of neglect. Mahomet had to forbid the
adoration which certain of his followers offered him; and
about a.d. 1000 the Caliph Hakem was worshipped while
living, and is still worshipped by the Druses. Paul and
Barnabas were treated as gods by the priest and people of
Lystra. And the sculpture, painting, and literature of medi-
aeval Europe, show how grossly anthropomorphic was the
conception of deity which prevailed down to recent centuries.
Only alluding to the familiar evidence furnished by the
mystery-plays, it will suffice if I instance the Old-French
verses which describe God's illness as cured by laughter
at a dancing rhymer (see Appendix A). Nor among some
Catholic peoples are things much better now. Just as the

DEITIES. 411

existing savage beats his idol if his hopes are not fulfilled —
just as the ancient Arcadian was apt " to scourge and prick
Pan if he came back empty-handed from the chase ; " so, an
Italian peasant or artizan will occasionally vent his anger by
thrashing a statue of the Madonna: as in Milan in Sept.,
1873, and as at Borne not long before. Instead of its being
true that ideas of deity such as are entertained by cultivated
people, are innate; it is, contrariwise, true that they arise
only at a comparatively advanced stage, as results of ac-
cumulated knowledge, greater intellectual grasp, and higher
sentiment.

§ 204. Behind the supernatural being of this order, as
behind supernatural beings of all other orders, we thus find
that there has in every case been a human personality.

Anything which transcends the ordinary, a savage thinks
of as supernatural or divine : the remarkable man among the
rest. This remarkable man may be simply the remotest
ancestor remembered as the founder of the tribe ; he may be
a chief famed for strength and bravery ; he may be a medi-
cine-man of great repute ; he may be an inventor of some-
thing new. And then, instead of being a member of the tribe,
he may be a superior stranger bringing arts and knowledge ;
or he may be one of a superior race predominating by con-
quest Being at first one or other of these, regarded with
awe during his life, he is regarded with increased awe after
his death ; and the propitiation of his ghost, becoming greater
than the propitiation of ghosts which are less feared, develops
into an established worship.

There is no exception then. Using the phrase ancestor-
worship in its broadest sense as comprehending all worship
of the dead, be they of the same blood or not, we conclude
that ancestor-worship is the root of every religion.*

• Important additional facts and arguments, bearing directly and indi-
rectlj on this conclusion, will be found m the Appendices. Appendix A
gires many farther illustrations ; Appendix B contains a criticism on the
theory of the mythologist* j and Appendix C a criticism on their method.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE PRIMITIVE THEORY OF THINGS.

§ 205. That seeming chaos of puerile assumptions and
monstrous inferences, making up the vast mass of super-
stitious beliefs everywhere existing, thus falls into order
when, instead of looking back upon it from our advanced
stand-point, we look forward upon it from the stand-point of
the primitive man.

Interpreters of early conceptions err in ways like those
in which teachers of the young err. Never having studied
Psychology, the pedagogue has but the dimmest notion of
his pupil's mind ; and, thinking of the undeveloped intellect
as though it had ideas which only the developed intellect can
have, he presents it with utterly incomprehensible facts —
generalizations before there exist in it the things to be gene-
ralized, and abstractions while there are none of the concrete
experiences from which such abstractions are derived: so
causing bewilderment and an appearance of stupidity. Simi-
larly, narrators of primitive legends and speculators about
the superstitions of savages, carry with them the general
notions civilization has developed, and, crediting the savage
with these, either express an unreasoning wonder that he
should think as he does, or else, seeking to explain his
thoughts, give explanations which ascribe to him ideas he
cannot have.

When, however, we cease to figure his mental processes
in terms of our own, the confusion disappears. When,

THE PRIMITIVE THEORY OF THINGS. 413

verifying a priori inference by a posteriori proof, we recog-
nize the fact that the primitive man does not distinguish
natural from unnatural, possible from impossible; knows
nothing of physical law, order, cause, etc.; and that while
he shows neither rational surprise nor the curiosity which
prompts examination, he lacks fit words for carrying on
inquiry, as well as the requisite power of continued thinking ;
we see that instead of being a speculator and maker of expla-
nations, he is at first an almost passive recipient of con-
clusions forced on him. Further, we find that he is inevitably
betrayed into an initial error; and that this originates an
erroneous system of thought which elaborates as he advances.
How natural is the evolution of this system of thought,
we shall perceive on now recapitulating, in the briefest way,
the results reached in the foregoing eighteen chapters.

§ 206. Changes in the sky and on the earth, occurring
hourly, daily, and at shorter or longer intervals, go on in ways
about which the savage knows nothing — unexpected appear-
ances and disappearances, transmutations, metamorphoses.
While seeming to show that arbitrariness characterizes all
actions, these foster the notion of a duality in the things which
become visible and vanish, or which transform themselves ;
and this notion is confirmed by experiences of shadows,
reflections, and echoes.

The impressions thus produced by converse with external
nature, favour a belief set up by a more definite experience —
the experience of dreams. Having no conception of mind,
the primitive man regards a dream as a series of actual
occurrences : he did the things, went to the places, saw the
persons, dreamt of. Untroubled by incongruities, he accepts
the facts as they stand; and, in proportion as he thinks
about them, is led to conceive a double which goes away
during sleep and comes back. This conception of his own
duality seems confirmed by the somnambulism occasionally
witnessed.

414 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

More decisively does it seem confirmed by other abnormal
insensibilities. In swoon, apoplexy, catalepsy, and the un-
consciousness following violence, it appears that the other-
self, instead of returning at call, will not return for periods
varying from some minutes to some days. Occasionally after
one of these states, the other-self tells what has happened in
the interval ; occasionally no account of its adventures can
be got ; and occasionally prolonged absence raises the doubt
whether it has not gone away for an indefinite period.

The distinction between these conditions of temporary
insensibility and. the condition of permanent insensibility,
is one which, sometimes imperceptible to instructed persons,
cannot be perceived by the savage. The normal uncon-
sciousness of sleep from which a man's double is readily
brought back, is linked by these abnormal kinds of uncon-
sciousness from which the double is brought back with diffi-
culty, to that lasting kind of unconsciousness from which
the double cannot be brought back at all. Still, analogy
leads the savage to infer that it will eventually come back.
And here, recalling the remark often made among ourselves
after a death, that it is difficult to believe the deceased, lying
not more quietly than he has often done, will never move
again, let me point out how powerful over the primitive mind
must be the association between this sleep-like quiescence
and the waking that habitually follows — an association
which, even alone, must go far towards suggesting resur-
rection. Such resurrection, shown by the universal fear of
the dead to be vaguely imagined even by the lowest races,
becomes clearly imagined in proportion as the idea of a wan-
dering duplicate is made definite by the dream-theory.

The second-self ascribed to each man, at first differs in
nothing from its original. It is figured as equally visible,
equally material ; and no less suffers hunger, thirst, fatigue,
pain. Indistinguishable from the person himself, capable of
b3ing slain, drowned, or otherwise destroyed a second time,
the original ghost, soul, or spirit, differentiates slowly in

TIIE PRIMITIVE THEORY OF THINGS, 415

supposed nature. Having at the outset but a temporary
second life, it gradually acquires a permanent one ; while it
deviates more and more in substance from body : becoming at
length etherealized.

This double of the dead man, originally conceived as like
him in all other respects, is conceived as having like
occupations. If of predatory race, it fights and hunts as
before ; if of pastoral, it continues to tend cattle, and drink
milk; if of agricultural, it resumes the business of sowing,
reaping, etc. And from this belief in a second life thus
like the first, and also like in the social arrangements it is
subject to, there result the practices of leaving with the
corpse food, drink, clothes, weapons, and of sacrificing at
the grave domestic animals, wives, slaves.

The place in which this life after death is believed to be
passed, varies with the antecedents of the race. Often ghosts
are thought of as mingling with their descendants, and por-
tions of meals are daily set aside for them ; sometimes the
adjacent forests are their imagined haunts, and they are
supposed to consume the offerings of food left there ; while
in other cases the idea is that they have gone back to the
region whence the race came. This other-world is reached
by a journey over land, or down a river, or across the sea,
towards this or that point of the compass, according as the
traditions determine. Hence at the grave are left fit appli-
ances for the journey — canoes for the voyage, or horses to
ride, dogs to guide, weapons for defence, money and pass-
ports for security. And where burial on a mountain range
entails belief in this as a residence of ancestral ghosts, or
where such range has been held by a conquering race, the
heavens, supposed to be accessible from the mountain-tops,
come to be regarded as the other-world, or rather as one of
the other-worlds.

The doubles of dead men, at first assumed to have but
temporary second lives, do not, in that case, tend to form in
popular belief an accumulating host; but they necessarily

416 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

tend to form such a host when permanent second lives are
ascribed to them. Swarming everywhere, capable of appear*
ing and disappearing at will, and working in ways that
cannot be foreseen, they are thought of as the causes of all
things which are strange, unexpected, inexplicable. Every
deviation from the ordinary is attributed to their agency;
and their agency is alleged even where what we call natural
causation seems obvious.

Begarded as workers of remarkable occurrences in the
surrounding world, they are regarded as workers also of
unusual actions in living persons. The body, deserted by
its other-self during insensibility, normal or abnormal, can
then be entered by the other-self of someone else, living
or dead ; and hence to the malicious doubles of dead men are
ascribed epilepsy and convulsions, delirium and insanity.
Moreover, this theory of possession, accounting for all those
bodily actions which the individual does not will, makes
comprehensible such acts as sneezing, yawning, etc., and is
extended to diseases at large and to death ; which is habi-
tually ascribed to an invisible enemy.

While the entrance of friendly spirits into men, giving
supernatural strength or knowledge, is desired and prayed
for, this entrance of spirits which inflict evils, physical and
mental, is of course dreaded ; and when it is believed to have
occurred, expulsion is the only remedy. The exorcist, by
loud noises, frightful grimaces, abominable stenches, etc.,
professes to drive out the malicious intruder. And thi3
simple form of exorcism is followed by the developed form
in which a more powerful spirit is called in to help. Whence,
also, there eventually grow up the practices of the sorcerer ;
who, using means to coerce the souls of the dead, com*
missions them to work his evil ends.

But while primitive men, regarding themselves as at the
mercy of surrounding ghosts, try to defend themselves by the
aid of the exorcist and the sorcerer, who deal with ghosts
antagonistically ; there is simultaneously adopted a contrary

THE PRIMITIVE THEORY OF THINGS. 417

behaviour towards ghosts — a propitiation of them. Two
opposite ways of treating the corpse show us the divergence
of these two opposite policies. In some cases the avowed
aim is to prevent revival of the deceased, so that he may not
trouble the living : a kind of motive which, where he is sup-
posed to have revived, prompts antagonistic dealings. But
in most cases the avowed aim is to secure the welfare of the
deceased on resuscitation : a kind of motive which prompts
propitiatory observances.

Out of this motive and these observances come all forms
of worship. Awe of the ghost makes sacred the sheltering
structure for the tomb, and this grows into the temple ; while
the tomb itself becomes the altar. From provisions placed
•for the dead, now habitually and now at fixed intervals, arise
religious oblations, ordinary and extraordinary — daily and at
festivals. Immolations and mutilations at the grave, pass
into sacrifices and offerings of blood at the altar of a deity.
Abstinence from food for the benefit of the ghost, develops
into fasting as a pious practice; and journeys to the grave
with gifts, become pilgrimages to the shrine. Praises of the
dead and prayers to them, grow into religious praises and
prayers. And so every holy rite is derived from a funeral
rite.

After finding that the earliest conception of a supernatural
being, and the one which remains common to all races, is
that of a ghost ; and after finding that the ways of propi-
tiating a ghost were in every case the originals of the ways
of propitiating deities ; the question was raised whether the
ghost is not the type of supernatural being out of which all
other types are evolved. The facts named in justification of
an affirmative answer were of several classes. From the lips
of primitive peoples themselves, were quoted proofs that out
of ghost-worship in general, there grew up the worship of
remote ancestral ghosts, regarded as creators or deities.
Worship of deities so evolved, we found characterized ancient
societies in both hemispheres: co-existing in them with

2 E

418 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

elaborate worship of the recent dead. Evidence was given
that by the highest races as by the lowest, ancestor- worship,
similarly practised, similarly originated deities ; and we saw
that it even now survives among the highest races, though
overshadowed by a more developed worship. Concluding,
then, that from worship of the dead every other kind of
worship has arisen, we proceeded to examine those worships
which do not externally resemble it, to see whether they
have traceable kinships.

From the corpse receiving offerings before burial, to the
embalmed body similarly cared for, and thence to figures
formed partly of the dead man's remains and partly of other
things, we passed to figures wholly artificial : so finding that
the effigy of a dead man supplied with food, etc., is then pro-
pitiated in place of him. Proof was found that this effigy of
the dead man occasionally becomes the idol of a god ; while
this continued propitiation becomes an established worship
of it. And since the doubles of the dead, believed to be pre-
sent in these images of them, are the real objects to which
offerings are made; it follows that all idolatry, hence
arising, is a divergent development of ancestor- worship. This
belief extends. Objects rudely resembling human beings,
and supposed parts of human beings, as well as those which
by contact with human bodies have absorbed their odour or
spirit, come to be included; and so it results that resident
ghosts are assumed in many things besides idols : especially
those having extraordinary appearances, properties, actions.
That the propitiation of the inhabiting ghosts, constituting
fetichism, is thus a collateral result of the ghost-theory, is
shown by various facts; but especially by the fact that
fetichism is absent where the ghost-theory is absent or but
little developed, and .extends in proportion as the ghost-
theory evolves.

It was demonstrated that animal-worship is another de-
rivative form of ancestor-worship. Actual and apparent
metamorphoses occurring in the experiences of the savage,

S

THE PRIMITIVE THEORY OF TH1NG& 419

encourage belief in metamorphosis when anything suggests
it: all races showing us that the transformation of men into
animals and of animals into men, is a familiar thought.
Hence house haunting creatures are supposed to be the dead
returned in new shapes; and creatures which frequent the
burial-place are taken for disguised souls. Further, the
widely-prevalent habit of naming men after animals^ leads,
by the inevitable misinterpretation of traditions, to beliefs in
descent from animals. And thus the sacred animal, now
treated with exceptional respect, now propitiated, now
worshipped, acquires its divine character by identification
with an ancestor, near or remote.

Similarly, plant-worship is the worship of a spirit originally
human, supposed to be contained in the plant — supposed
either because of the exciting effects of its products; or
because misapprehended tradition raises the belief that the
race descended from it; or because a misinterpreted name
identifies it with an ancestor. Everywhere the plant-spirit
is shown by its conceived human form, and ascribed Immap.
desires, to have originated from a human personality.

Even deification of the greater objects and powers in
Nature has the same root. When it marks the place whence
the race came, a mountain is described in tradition as the
source or parent of the race, as is probably the sea in some
cases ; and both also give family names : worship of them as
ancestors thus arising in two ways. Facts imply that the
conception of the dawn as a person, results from the giving
of Dawn as a birth-name. The personalization of stars and
of constellations, we found associated among inferior races
with the belief that they are beings who once lived on the
Earth. So, too, is it with the Moon. Traditions of people; in
low stages tell of the Moon as having been originally a man
or woman ; and the Moon is still a source of birth-names
among the uncivilized : the implication being that reverence
for it is reverence for a departed person. Lastly, worship qf
the Sun is derived in three ways from ancestor-worship.

2 e 2

420 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Here conquerors coming from the region of sunrise, and
therefore called " children of the San/' come to regard the
Sun as ancestor ; and there Sun is either a birth-name or a
metaphorical name given because of personal appearance, or
because of achievements, or because of exalted position :
whence identification with the Sun in tradition, and con-
sequent Sun-worship.

Besides these aberrant developments of ancestor-worship
which result from identification of ancestors with idols,
animals, plants, and natural powers, there are direct deve-
lopments of it Out of the assemblage of ghosts, some
evolve into deities who retain their anthropomorphic charac-
ters. As the divine and the superior are, in the primitive
mind, equivalent ideas — as the living man and re-appearing
ghost are at first confounded in early beliefs — as ghost and
god are originally convertible terms ; we may understand how
a deity develops out of a powerful man, and out of the ghost
of a powerful man, by small steps. Within the tribe the
chief, the magician, or some one otherwise skilled, held ip.
awe during his life as showing powers of unknown origin and
extent, is feared in a higher degree when, after death, he
gains the further powers possessed by all ghosts ; and still
more the stranger bringing new arts, as well as the conqueror
of superior race, is treated as a superhuman being during
life and afterwards worshipped as a yet greater superhuman
being. Remembering that the most marvellous version of
any story commonly obtains the greatest currency, and that
so, from generation to generation, the deeds of such traditional
persons grow by unchecked exaggerations eagerly listened
to ; we may see that in time any amount of expansion and
idealization can be reached.

Thus, setting out with the wandering double which the
dream suggests; passing to the double that goes away at
death ; advancing from this ghost, at first supposed to have
but a transitory second life, to ghosts -which exist perma-
nently and therefore accumulate ; the primitive man is led

THE PKIMTnVE THEORY OF THINGS. 421

gradually to people surrounding space with supernatural
beings, small and great, which become in his mind causal
agents for everything unfamiliar. And in carrying out the
mode of interpretation initiated in this way, he is committed
to the ever-multiplying superstitions we have traced out

§ 207. How orderly is the genesis of these beliefs, will be
seen on now observing that the Law of Evolution is as clearly
exemplified by it as by every other natural process. I do not
mean merely that a system of superstitions arises by con-
tinuous growth, each stage of which leads to the next; but I
mean that the general formula of Evolution is conformed to
by the changes gone through.

Integration is, in the first place, shown us by simple increase
of mass. In extremely low tribes which have but faint and
wavering beliefs in the doubles of the dead, there are no
established groups of supposed supernatural beings. Among
the more advanced, who hold that dead members of the tribe
have temporary second lives, ghosts form an imagined assem-
blage which, though continually augmented, is continually
dissolving away — a cluster which does not increase because
the subtractions equal the additions. But when, later, there
arises the belief that ghosts exist permanently, this cluster
necessarily grows ; and its growth becomes great in proportion
both as the society enlarges and as traditions are longer pre-
served. Hence such a multiplication of supernatural beings
that even the superior among them are scarcely numerable.
Gomara tells us that " the gods of Mexico are said to num-
ber 2,000;" and with these must be joined the far more
numerous demons, and spirits of undistinguished persons,
recognized in every locality. A like immense growth
was exhibited in ancient mythologies; and is now exhi-
bited by the mythology of India, as well as by that of
Japan. Along with this increase of mass, goes

increase of coherence. The superstitions of the primitive
man are loose and incansistent: different members of a tribe

422 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

make different statements; and the same individual varies
his interpretations as occasion suggests. But in course of
time the beliefs aTe elaborated into a well-knit system.
Further, the hypothesis to which the ghost-theory leads,
initiated by anomalous occurrences, extends itself to all
phenomena ; so that the properties and actions of surrounding
things, as well as the thoughts and feelings of men, are
ascribed to unseen beings; who thus constitute a combined
mechanism of causation.

While increasing in mass and in coherence, the. super-
natural aggregate increases in heterogeneity. Alike as ghosts
are at first conceived to be, they become unlike as fast as the
tribe grows, complicates, and begins to have a history : the
ghost-fauna, almost homogeneous at the outset, differentiates.
Originally, the only distinctions of good or bad among the
doubles of the dead, are such as were shown by the living
men ; as are also the only unlikenesses of power. But there
soon arise conceived contrasts in goodness between the ghosts
of relatives and the ghosts of other persons; as well as
stronger contrasts between friendly ghosts belonging to the
tribe and malicious ghosts belonging to other tribes. When
social ranks are established, there follow contrasts of rank
and accompanying potency among supernatural beings;
which, as legends expand, grow more and more marked.
Eventually there is formed in this way a hierarchy of par-
tially-deified ancestors, demigods, great gods, and among the
great gods one who is supreme; while there is simul-
taneously formed a hierarchy of diabolical powers. Then
come those further differentiations which specialize the
functions and habitats of these supernatural beings; until
each mythology has its major and minor presiding agents,
from Apollo down to a dryad, from Thor down to a water-
sprite, from a Saint down to a fairy. So that out of the
originally small and almost uniform aggregate of supernatural
beings, there gradually comes an aggregate as multiform as
it is vast

THE PRIMITIVE THEORY OF THINGS. 423

Change from the indefinite to the definite is no less
clearly displayed. That early stage in which men show fear
of the dead and yet do not themselves expect any future
existence, shows us an extreme indefiniteness of the ghost-
theory. Even after the ghost-theory is established the
beliefs in the resulting supernatural beings, though strong,
are indistinct At the same time that Livingstone describes
the people of Angola as "constantly deprecating the wrath
of departed souls/' he says that they " have half-developed
ideas and traditions of something or other, they know not
what." And kindred accounts of uncivilized races else-
where, are given by various travellers. But with progress
conceptions become clearer. The different kinds of super-
natural beings grow more defined in their forms, dispositions,
powers, habits; until, in developed mythologies, they are
specifically, and even individually, distinguished by attributes
precisely stated.

Undeniably, then, a system of superstitions evolves after
the same manner as all other things. By continuous inte-
gration and differentiation, it is formed into an aggregate
which, while increasing, passes from an indefinite incoherent
homogeneity to a definite coherent heterogeneity. This
correspondence is, indeed, inevitable. The law which is
conformed to by the evolving human being, and which is
consequently conformed to by the evolving human intel-
ligence, is of necessity conformed to by all products of that
intelligence. Showing itself in structures, and by implication
in the functions of those structures, this law cannot but
show itself in the concrete manifestations of those functions.
Just as language, considered as an objective product, bears
the impress of this subjective process; so, too, does that
syBtem of ideas concerning the nature of things, which the
mind gradually elaborates.

So that in fact the hypothesis of Evolution absorbs the
antagonist hypotheses preceding it, and strengthens itself by
assimilating their components.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE SCOPE OF SOCIOLOGY.

§ 208. Through the minds of some who are critical re-
specting logical order, there has doubtless passed the thought
that, along with the Data of Sociology, the foregoing chapters
have included much which forms a part of Sociology itself.
Admitting an apparent justification for this objection, the
reply is that in no case can the data of a science be stated
before some knowledge of the science has been reached ; and
that the analysis which discloses the data cannot be made
without reference to the aggregate of phenomena analyzed.
For example, in Biology the explanation of functions implies
knowledge of the various physical and chemical actions going
on throughout the organism. Yet these actions become com-
prehensible only as fast as the relations of structures and
reciprocities of functions become known ; nay, they cannot
even be described without reference to the vital actions
interpreted by them. Similarly in Sociology, it is impossible
to explain the origin and development of those ideas and
sentiments wliich are leading agents in social evolution,
without referring directly or by implication to the phases of
that evolution.

The need for this preliminary statement of data, and the
especial need for the latter part of it, will be seen when the
results are gathered up, generalized, and formulated*

§ 209. After recognizing the truth that the phenomena of

THE SCOPE OF SOCIOLOGY. 425

social evolution are determined partly by the external actions
to which the social aggregate is exposed, and partly by the
natures of its units ; and after observing that these two sets
of factors are themselves progressively changed as the society
evolves; we glanced at these two sets of factors in their
original forms.

A sketch was given of the conditions, inorganic and
organic, on various parts of the earth's surface; showing
the effects of cold and heat, of humidity and dryness, of
surface, contour, soil, minerals, of floras and faunas. After
seeing how social evolution in its earlier stages depends
wholly on a favourable combination of circumstances; and
after seeing that though, along with advancing development,
there goes increasing independence of circumstances, these
ever remain important factors ; it was pointed out that while
dealing with principles of evolution which are common to all
societies, we might neglect those special external factors
which determine sorpe of their special characters.

Our attention was then directed to the internal factors as
rude societies display them.. An. account was given of
"The Primitive Man — Physical : " ' showing that by stature,
structure, strength, as well as by callousness and lack of
energy, he was ill fitted for overcoming the difficulties in
the way of advance. Examination of " The Primitive Man
— Emotional," led us to see that his improvidence and his
explosiveness, restrained but little by sociality and by the
altruistic sentiments, rendered him unfit for co-operation.
And then, in the chapter on " The Primitive Man — Intel-
lectual," we saw that while adapted by its active and acute
perceptions to the needs of a wild life, his type of mind is
deficient in the faculties required for progress in knowledge.

After recognizing these as general traits of the original
social unit, we found that there remained to be noted certain
more special traits, implied by his ideas and their accom-
panying sentiments. This led us to trace the genesis of
those beliefs concerning his own nature and the nature of

426 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Surrounding things, which were summed up in the last
chapter. And now observe the general conclusion reached.
It is that while the conduct of the primitive man is in part
determined by the feelings with which he regards men
Ground him ; it is in part determined by the feelings with
which he regards men who have passed away. From these
two sets of feelings, result two all-important sets of social
factors. While the fear of the living becomes the root of the
political control, the fear of the dead become^the root of the
religious control. On remembering how large a share the
resulting ancestor-worship had in regulating life among the
people who, in the Nile-valley, first reached a high civiliza-
tion— on remembering that the ancient Peruvians tflk^ub-
ject to a rigid social system rooted in an ancestor-worship so
elaborate that the living might truly be called slaves of the
dead — on remembering that in the lives of Greeks and
Komans propitiation of the family and tribal manes was
habitual — on remembering that in China, too, there has been,
and still continues, a kindred worship generating kindred
restraints ; we shall recognize, in the fear of the dead, a social
factor which is, at first, not less important, if indeed it is not
more important, than the fear of the living.

And thus is made manifest the need for the foregoing
account of the origin and development of this trait in the
social units, by which co-ordination of their actions is ren-
dered possible.

§ 210. Setting out with social units as thus conditioned,
as thus constituted physically, emotionally, and intellectually,
and as thus possessed of certain early-acquired notions and
correlative feelings, the Science of Sociology has to give an
account of all the phenomena that result from their com-
bined actions.

The simplest of such combined actions are those by which
the successive generations of units are produced, reared, and
fitted for co-operation. The development of the family thus

THE SCOPE OP SOCIOLOGY. 427

stands first in order. The ways in which the fostering of
offspring is influenced by promiscuity, by polyandry, by
polygyny, and by monogamy, have to be traced ; as have also
the results of exogamous marriage and endogamous marriage.
These, considered first as affecting the maintenance of the
race in number and quality, have also to be considered as
affecting the condition of adults. Moreover, beyond ob-
serving how the several forms of the sexual relations modify
family-life, they have to be treated in connexion with public
life; on which they act and which reacts on them. And
then, after the sexual relations, there have to be similarly
dealt with the parental and filial relations.

Sociology has next to describe and explain the rise and
development of that political organization which in several
ways regulates affairs— which combines the actions of in-
dividuals for purposes of tribal or national offence and
defence ; and which restrains them in certain of their dealings
with one another, as also in certain of their dealings with
themselves. It has to trace the relations of this co-ordi-
nating and controlling apparatus, to the area occupied, to the
amount and distribution of population, to the means of com-
munication. It has to show the differences of form which
this agency presents in the different social types, nomadic
and settled, militant and industrial. It has to describe the
changing relations between this regulative structure which is
unproductive, and those structures which carry on produc-
tion. It has also to set forth the connexions between, and
reciprocal influences of, the institutions carrying on civil
government, and the other governmental institutions simul-
taneously developing — the ecclesiastical and the ceremonial.
And then it has to take account of those modifications which
persistent political restraints are ever working in the charac-
ters of the social units, as well as the modifications worked
by the reactions of these changed characters on the political
organization.

There has to be similarly described the evolution of the

428 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

ecclesiastical structures and functions. Commencing with
these as scarcely distinguished from the political structures
and functions, their divergent developments must be traced*
How the share of ecclesiastical agencies in political actions
becomes gradually less ; how, reciprocally, political agencies
play a decreasing part in ecclesiastical actions; are phe-
nomena to be set forth. How the internal organization of
the priesthood, differentiating and integrating as the society
grows, stands related in type to the co-existing organizations,
political and other;. and how changes of structure in it are
connected with changes of structure in them ; are also sub-
jects to be dealt with.. Further, there has to be shown the
progressive divergence between the set of rules framed into
civil law, and the set of rules which the ecclesiastical organi-
zation enforces ; and in this second set of rules there has to
be traced the divergence between those which become a code
of religious ceremonial and those which become a code of
ethical precepts. Once more, the science has to note how the
ecclesiastical agency in its structure, functions, laws, and
creed, stands related to the character of the people ; and how
the actions and reactions of the two mutually modify them.

The system of restraints whereby the minor actions of
citizens are regulated, has also to be dealt with. Earlier
than the political and ecclesiastical controls is the control
embodied in ceremonial observances ; which, beginning with
propitiations that initiate acts of class-subordination, grow
into rules of intercourse between man and man. The mutila-
tions which mark conquest and become badges of servitude ;
the obeisances which are originally signs of submission made
by the conquered; the titles which are words directly or
metaphorically attributing mastery over those who utter
them; the salutations which are also the flattering profes-
sions of subjection and implied inferiority — these, and some
others, have to be traced in their genesis and development.
The growth of the structure which maintains observances;
the accumulation, complication, and increasing definition of

THE SCOPE OF SOCIOLOGY. 429

observances ; and the resulting code of bye-laws of conduct,
have to be severally delineated. These regulative arrange-
ments, too, must be considered in their relations to co-
existing regulative arrangements ; with which they all along
maintain a congruity in respect of coerciveness. And the
reciprocal influences exercised by them on men's natures, and
by men's natures on them, need setting forth.

Co-ordinating structures and functions having been treated,
there have to be treated the structures and functions co-
ordinated. The regulative and the operative are the two
most generally contrasted divisions of every society ; and the
inquiries of highest importance concern the relations between
them. The stages through which the industrial part passes,
from its original union with the governmental part to its
ultimate separateness, have to be studied. An allied subject
of study is the growth of those regulative structures which
the industrial part develops within itself. The producing
activities of its units have to be directed; and the various
forms of the directive apparatus have to be dealt with — the
kinds of government under which separate groups of workers
act ; the kinds of government under which workers in the
same business and of the same class are combined (eventu-
ally differentiating into guilds and into unions); and the
kind of government which keeps in balance the activities of
the various industrial structures. The relations between
the types of these industrial governments and the types
of the co-existing political and ecclesiastical governments,
have to be considered at each successive stage; as have
also the relations between each type and the natures of
the citizens: there being here, too, a reciprocity of influ-
ences. After the regulative part of the industrial
organization comes the operative part; also presenting its
successive stages of evolution. The separation of the dis-
tributive system from the productive system having been
first traced, there has to be traced the growing division of
labour within each — the rise of grades and kinds of distribu-

430 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

tors as well as grades and kinds of producer*. And then
there have to be added the effects which the developing
and differentiating industries produee on one another — the
advances of the industrial arts themselves, caused by mitual
help.

These developments of the structures and functions wliich
make up the organization and life of each society, having
been followed out, we have then to follow out certain asso-
ciated developments which aid, and are aided by, social
evolution — the developments of language, knowledge, morals,
aesthetics. linguistic progress has to be considered

first as displayed in language itself, while passing from a
relatively incoherent, indefinite, homogeneous state, to states
that are successively more coherent, definite, and hetero-
geneous. We have to note how increasing social complexity
conduces to increasing complexity of language; and how,
as a society becomes settled, its language acquires perma-
nence. The connexion between the developments of words
and sentences and the correlative developments of thought
which they aid, and which are aided by them, has to be
observed: the reciprocity being traced in the increasing
multiplicity, variety, exactness, which each helpfr the other
to gain. Progress in intelligence, thus associated

with progress in language, has also to be treated as accom-
panying social progress ; which, while furthering it, is furthered
by it From experiences which accumulate, come com-
parisons leading to generalizations of simple kinds. Gradually
the ideas of uniformity, order, and cause, becoming nascent, gain
clearness with each fresh truth established. And while there
has to be noted the connexion between each phase of science
and the concomitant phase of social life, there have also to
be noted the stages through which, within the body of science
itself, there is an advance from a few, simple, incoherent
truths, to a number of specialized sciences forming an aggro-
gate of truths that are multitudinous, varied, exact* cohe-
rent rj he emotional modifications which accompany

THE SCOPE OF SOCIOLOGY. 431

social modifications, both as causes and as consequences, also
demand separate attention. Besides observing the inter-
actions of the social state and the moral state, we have to
observe the associated modifications of those moral codes in
which moral feelings get their intellectual expression. The
kind of behaviour which each kind of rfyime necessitates,
finds for itself a justification which acquires an ethical cha-
racter ; and hence systems of ethics must be dealt with in
their social dependences. Then come the groups of

phenomena we call aesthetic; which, as exhibited in art-
products and in the correlative sentiments, have to be studied
in their respective evolutions internally considered, and in
the relations of those evolutions to accompanying social
phenomena. Diverging as they do from a common root
architecture, sculpture, painting, together with dancing,
music, and poetry, have to be severally treated as connected
with the political and ecclesiastical stages, with the co-
existing phases of moral sentiment, and with the degrees of
intellectual advance.

Finally we have to consider the inter-dependence of struc-
tures, and functions, and products, taken in their totality.
Among these many groups of phenomena there is a con-
census; and the highest achievement in Sociology is so to
grasp the vast heterogeneous aggregate, as to see how the
character of each group at each stage is determined partly
by its own antecedents and partly by the past and present
actions of the rest upon it.

§ 211. But now before trying to explain these most in-
volved phenomena, we must learn by inspection the relations
of co-existence and sequence in which they stand to one
another. By comparing societies of different kinds, and
societies in different stages, we must ascertain what traits of
size, structure, function, etc, are associated. In other words,
before deductive interpretation of the general truths, there
must come inductive establishment of them.

432 THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.

Here, then, ending preliminaries, let us examine the facts
of Sociology, for the purpose of seeing into what empirical
generalizations they may be arranged

PART II.

THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

2f

CHAPTER L

WHAT IS A SOCIETY?

§ 212. This question has to be asked and answered at the
outset. Until we have decided whether or not to regard a
society as an entity ; and until we have decided whether, if
regarded as an entity, a society is to be classed as abso-
lutely unlike all other entities or as like some others ; our
conception of the subject-matter before us remains vague.

It may be said that a society is but a collective name for
a number of individuals. Carrying the controversy between
nominalism and realism into another sphere, a nominalist
might affirm that just as there exist only the members of a
species, while the species considered apart from them has
no existence ; so the units of a society alone exist, while the
existence of the society is but verbal. Instancing a lec-
turer's audience as an aggregate which by disappearing at
the close of the lecture, proves itself to be not a thing but
only a certain arrangement of persons, he might argue that
the like holds of the citizens forming a nation.

But without disputing the other steps of his argument,
the last step may be denied. The arrangement, temporary
in the one case, is permanent in the other ; and it is the per-
manence of the relations among component parts which,
constitutes the individuality of a whole as distinguished from
the individualities of its parts. A mass broken into frag-
ments ceases to be a thing; while, conversely, the stones,

2 f 2

436 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

bricks, and wood, previously separate, become the thing
called a house if connected in fixed ways.

Thus we consistently regard a society as an entity, because,
though formed of discrete units, a certain concreteness in
the aggregate of them is implied by the general persistence
of the arrangements among them throughout the area occu-
pied. And it is this trait which yields our idea of a society.
For, withholding the name from an ever-changing cluster
such as primitive men form, we apply it only where some
constancy in the distribution of parts has resulted from
settled life.

§ 213. But now, regarding a society as a thing, what kind
of thing must we call it ? It seems totally unlike every object
with which our senses acquaint us. Any likeness it may
possibly have to other objects, cannot be manifest to percep-
tion, but can be discerned only by reason. If the constant
relations among its parts make it an entity; the question
arises whether these constant relations among its parts are
akin to the constant relations among the parts of other
entities. Between a society and anything else, the only
conceivable resemblance must be one due to parallelism of
principle in the arrangement of components.

There are two great classes of aggregates with which the
social aggregate may be compared — the inorganic and the
organic. Are the attributes of a society in any way like
those of a not-living body ? or are they in any way like those
of a living body ? or are they entirely unlike those of both ?

The first of these questions needs only to be asked to be
answered in the negative. A whole of which the parts
are alive, cannot, in its general characters, be like lifeless
wholes. The second question, not to be thus promptly
answered, is to be answered in the affirmative. The rea-
sons for asserting that the permanent relations among the
parts of a society, are analogous to the permanent relations
among the parts of a living body, we have now to consider.

CHAPTER 1L

A SOCIETY IS AN ORGANISM.

§ 214. When we say that growth is common to social
aggregates and organic aggregates, we do not thus entirely
exclude community with inorganic aggregates. Some of
these, as crystals, grow in a visible manner ; and all of them,
on the hypothesis of evolution, have arisen by integration at
some time or other. Nevertheless, compared with things we
call inanimate, living bodies and societies so conspicuously
exhibit augmentation of mass, that we may fairly regard this as
characterizing them both. Many organisms grow throughout
their lives ; and the rest grow throughout considerable parts
of their lives. Social growth usually continues either up to
times when the societies divide, or up to times when they are
overwhelmed.

Here, then, is the first trait by which societies ally them-
selves with the organic world and substantially distinguish
htemselves from the inorganic world.

§ 215. It is also a character of social bodies, as of living
bodies, that while they increase in size they increase in
structure. lake a low animal, the embryo of a high one has
few distinguishable parts ; but while it is acquiring greater
mass, its parts multiply and differentiate. It is thus with a
society. At first the unlikenesses among its groups of units
are inconspicuous in number and degree; but as population

438 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

augments, divisions and sub-divisions become more numerous
and more decided. Further, in the social organism as in the
individual organism, differentiations cease only with that
completion of the type which marks maturity and precedes
decay.

Though in inorganic aggregates also, as in the entire
Solar System and in each of its members, structural differen-
tiations accompany the integrations; yet these are so
relatively slow, and so relatively simple, that they may be
disregarded. The multiplication of contrasted parts in
bodies politic and in living bodies, is so great that it sub-
stantially constitutes another common character which marks
them off from inorganic bodies.

§ 216. This community will be more fully appreciated on"
observing that progressive differentiation of structures is
accompanied by progressive differentiation of functions.

The divisions, primary, secondary, and tertiary, which
arise in a developing animal, do not assume their major and
minor unlikenesses to no purpose. Along with diversities
in their shapes and compositions go diversities in the actions
they perform : they grow into unlike organs having unlike
duties. Assuming the entire function of absorbing nutri-
ment at the same time that it takes on its structural char-
acters, the alimentary system becomes gradually marked off
into contrasted portions ; each of which has a special func-
tion forming part of the general function. A limb, instru-
mental to locomotion or prehension, acquires divisions and
sub-divisions which perform their leading and their subsidiary
shares in this office. So is it with the parts into

which a society divides. A dominant class arising does not
simply become unlike the rest, but assumes control over the
rest ; and when this class separates into the more and the less
dominant, these, a^ain, begin to discharge distinct parts of the
entire control. With the classes whose actions are controlled
it is the same. The various groups into which they fall have

A SOCIETY IS AN ORGANISM. 439

various occupations : each of such groups also, within itself,
acquiring minor contrasts of parts along with minor con-
trasts of duties.

And here we see more clearly how the two classes of
things we are comparing, distinguish themselves from things
of other classes; for such differences of structure as slowly
arise in inorganic aggregates, are not accompanied by what
we can fairly call differences of function.

§ 217. Why in a body politic and in a living body, these
unlike actions of unlike parts are properly regarded by us
as functions, while we cannot so regard the unlike actions
of unlike parts in an inorganic body, we shall perceive on
turning to the next and most distinctive common trait

Evolution establishes in them both, not differences simply,
but definitely-connected differences — differences such that
each makes the others possible. The parts of an inorganic
aggregate are so related that one may change greatly without
appreciably affecting the rest It is otherwise with the parts
of an organic aggregate or of a social aggregate. In either of
these, the changes in the parts are mutually determined, and
the changed actions of the parts are mutually dependent
In both, too, this mutuality increases as the evolution
advances. The lowest type of animal is all stomach, all
respiratory surface, all limb. Development of a type having
appendages by which to move about or lay hold of food, can
take place only if these appendages, losing power to absorb
nutriment directly from surrounding bodies, are supplied
with nutriment by parts which retain the power of absorp-
tion. A respiratory surface to which the circulating fluids
are brought to be aerated, can be formed only on condition
that the concomitant loss of ability to supply itself with
materials for repair and growth, is made good by the develop-
ment of a structure bringing these materials. Simi-
larly in a society. What we call with perfect propriety
its organization, necessarily implies traits of the same kind.

440 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

While rudimentary, a society is all warrior, all hunter, all
hut-builder, all tool-maker: every part fulfils for itself all
needs. Progress to a stage characterized by a permanent
army, can go on only as there arise arrangements for supply-
ing that army with food, clothes, and munitions of war by
the rest. If here the population occupies itself solely with
agriculture and there with mining — if these manufacture
goods while those distribute them, it must be on condition
that in exchange for a special kind of service rendered by
each part to other parts, these other parts severally give due
proportions of their services.

This division of labour, first dwelt on by political econo-
mists as a social phenomenon, and thereupon recognized by
biologists as a phenomenon of living bodies, which they
called the " physiological division of labour," is that which
in the society, as in the animal, makes it a living whole.
Scarcely can I emphasize enough the truth that in respect
of this fundamental trait, a social organism and an indivi-
dual organism are entirely alike. When we see that in
a mammal, arresting the lungs quickly brings the heart
to a stand ; that if the stomach fails absolutely in its office
all other parts by-and-by cease to act; that 'paralysis of its
limbs entails on the body at large death from want *>f food,
or inability to escape ; that loss of even such small organs as
the eyes, deprives the- rest of a service essential to their
preservation ; we cannot but admit that mutual dependence
of parts is an essential characteristic. And when, in a society,
we see that the workers in iron stop if the miners do not
supply materials; that makers of clothes cannot carry on
their business in the absence of those who spin and weave
textile fabrics ; that the manufacturing community will cease
to act unless the food-producing and food-distributing agen-
cies are acting; that the controlling powers, governments,
bureaux, judicial officers, police, must fail to keep order
when the necessaries of life are not supplied to them by
the parts kept in order; we are obliged to say that this

A SOCIETY IS AN ORGANISM. 441

mutual dependence of parts is similarly rigorous. Unlike
as the two kinds of aggregates otherwise are, they are alike
in respect of this fundamental character, and the characters
implied by it

§ 218. How the combined actions of mutually-dependent
parts constitute life of the whole, and how there hence
results a parallelism between social life and animal life,
we see still more clearly on learning that the life of every
visible organism is constituted by the lives of units too
minute to be seen by the unaided eye.

An uqfleniable illustration is furnished by the strange
order Mypomycetes. The spores or germs produced by one
of these forms, become ciliated monads, which, after a time of
active locomotion, change into shapes like those of amoeba*,
move about, take in nutriment, grow, multiply by fission.
Then these amoeba-form individuals swarm together, begin
to o40Ng? into groups, and these groups to coalesce with
one another : making a mass sometimes barely visible, some-
times as big as the hand. This plasmodium, irregular, mostly
reticulated, and in substance gelatinous, itself exhibits
movements fffts "parts like those of a gigantic rhizopod'
creeping slowly over surfaces of decaying matters, and even
up thte, stems of plants. Here, then, union of many minute
living individuals to form a relatively vast aggregate in
which their individualities are apparently lost, but the life
of which results from combination of their lives, is demon-
strable.

In other cases, instead of units which, originally discrete,
lose their individualities by aggregation, we have units
which, arfemg by multiplication from the same germ, do
not part company, but nevertheless display their separate
lives very clearly. A growing sponge has its horny fibres
clothed with a gelatinous substance; and the microscope
shows this to consist of moving monads. We cannot deny
life to the sponge as a whole, for it shows us some corporate

442 THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY.

actions. . The outer amoeba-form units partially lose their
individualities by fusion into a protective layer or skin;
the supporting framework of fibres is produced by the joint
agency of the monads; and from their joint agency also
result those currents of water which are drawn in through
the smaller orifices and expelled through the larger. But
while there is thus shown a feeble aggregate life, the lives
of the myriads of component units are very little sub-
ordinated: these units form, as it were, a nation having
scarcely any sub-division of functions. Or, in the words of
Professor Huxley, "the sponge represents a kind of sub-
aqueous city, where the people are arranged about the
streets and roads, in such a manner, that each can easily
appropriate his food from the water as it passes along."
Again, in the hydroid polype Myriothela, " pseudopodial pro-
cesses are being constantly projected from the walls of the
alimentary canal into its cavity;" and these Dr. Allman
regards as processes from the cells forming the walls, which
lay hold of alimentary matter just as those of an amoeba do.
The lilce may be seen in certain planarian worms.

Even in the highest animals there remains traceable this
relation between the aggregate life and the lives of com-
ponents. Blood is a liquid in which, along with nutritive
matters, circulate innumerable living units — the blood cor- ^ivu^
puscles. These have severally their life-histories. During
its first stage each of them, then known as a white cor-
puscle, makes independent movements like those of an
amoeba; it "may be fed with coloured food, which will
then be seen to have accumulated in the interior ;" " and in
some cases the colourless blood-corpuscles have actually
been seen to devour their more diminutive companions, the
red ones." Nor is this individual life of the units prov-
able only where flotation in a liquid allows its signs to be
readily seen. Sundry mucous surfaces, as those of the air
passages, are covered with what is called ciliated epithelium
— a layer of minute elongated cells packed side by side, and

A SOCIETY IS AN ORGANISM. * 443

each bearing on its exposed end several cilia continually in
motion. The wavings of these cilia are essentially like
those of the monads which live in the passages running
through a sponge; and just as the joint action of these
ciliated sponge-monads propels the current of water, so does
the joint action of the ciliated epithelium-cells move forward
the mucous secretion covering them. If there needs further
proof that these epithelium-cells have independent lives, we
have it in the fact that when detached and placed in a fit
menstruum, they "move about with considerable rapidity
for some time, by the continued vibrations of the cilia with
which they are furnished."

On thus seeing that an ordinary living organism may be
regarded as a nation of units which live individually, and
have many of them considerable degrees of independence,
we shall have the less difficulty in regarding a nation of
human beings as an organism.

§ 219. The relation between the lives of the units and the
life of the aggregate, has a further character common to
the two cases. By a catastrophe the life of the aggregate
may be destroyed without immediately destroying the lives
of all its units ; while, on the other hand, if no catastrophe
abridges it, the life of the aggregate is far longer than the
lives of its units.

In a cold-blooded animal, ciliated cells perform their
motions with perfect regularity long after the creature they
are part of has become motionless. Muscular fibres retain
their power of contracting under stimulation. The cells of
secreting organs go on pouring out their product if blood
is artificially supplied to them. And the components of an
entire organ, as the heart, continue their co-operation for
many hours after its detachment Similarly, arrest

of those commercial activities, governmental co-ordinations,
etc., which constitute the corporate life of a nation, may be
caused, say by an inroad of barbarians, without immediately

fc

- r '

444 ' THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

stopping the actions of all the units. Certain classes of
these, especially the widely-diffused ones engaged in food-
production, may long survive and carry on their individual
occupations.

On the other hand, the minute living elements composing
a developed animal, severally evolve, play their parts,
decay, and are replaced, while the animal as a whole con-
tinues. In the deep layer of the skin, cells are formed
by fission which, as they enlarge, are thrust outwards,
and, becoming flattened to form the epidermis, eventually
exfoliate, while the younger ones beneath take their places,
liver-cells, growing by imbibition of matters from which
they separate the bile, presently die, and their vacant seats
are occupied by another generation. Even bone, though so
dense and seemingly inert, is permeated by blood-vessels
carrying materials to replace old components by new ones.
And the replacement, rapid in some tissues and in others
slow, goes on at such rate that during the continued exist-
ence of the entire body, each portion of it has been many
times over produced and destroyed. Thus it is

also with a society and its units. Integrity of the whole
as of each large division is perennially maintained, not-
withstanding the deaths of component citizens. The fabric
of living persons which, in a manufacturing town, produces
some commodity for national use, remains after a century
as large a fabric, though all the masters and workers who
a century ago composed it have long since disappeared.
Even with minor parts of this industrial structure the like
holds. A firm that dates from past generations, still carrying
on business in the name of its founder, has had all its mem-
bers and employes changed one by one, perhaps several times
over; while the firm has continued to occupy the same
place and to maintain like relations with buyers and sellers.
Throughout we find this. Governing bodies, general and
local, ecclesiastical corporations, armies, institutions of all
orders down to guilds, clubs, philanthropic associations, etc.,

A SOCIETY IS AN ORGANISM. 445

show us a continuity of life exceeding that of the persons
constituting them. Nay, more. As part of the same law, we
see that the existence of the society at large exceeds in
duration that of some of these compound parts. Private
unions, local public bodies, secondary national institutions,
towns carrying on special industries, may decay, while the
nation, maintaining its integrity, evolves in mass and structure.

In both cases, too, the mutually-dependent functions of
the various divisions, being. severally made up of the actions
of many units, it results that these units dying one by
one, are replaced without the function in which they share
being sensibly affected. In a muscle, each sarcous element
wearing out in its turn, is removed and a substitution made
while the rest carry on their combined contractions as
usual ; and the retirement of a public official or death of a
shopman, perturbs inappreciably the business of the depart-
ment, or activity of the industry, in which he had a share.

Hence arises in the social organism, as in the individual
organism, a life of the whole quite unlike the lives of the
units ; though it is a life produced by them.

§ 220. From these likenesses between the social organism
and the individual organism, we must now turn to an ex-
treme unlikeness. The parts of an animal form a concrete
whole ; but the parts of a society form a whole which is dis-
crete. While the living units composing the one are bound
together in close contact, the living units composing the
other are free, are not in contact, and are more or less widely
dispersed. How, then, can there be any parallelism ?

Though this difference is fundamental and apparently
puts comparison out of the question, yet examination proves
it to be less than it seems. Presently I shall have to point
out that complete admission of it consists with maintenance
of the alleged analogy ; but we will first observe how one who
thought it needful, might argue that even in this respect
there is a smaller contrast than a cursory glance shows.

446 THE INDUCTIONS OF 80CI0L0GY.

He might urge that the physically-coherent body of an
animal is not composed all through of living units ; but that
it consists in large measure of differentiated parts which the
vitally active parts have formed, and which thereafter
become semi-vital and in some cases un- vital. Taking as an
example the protoplasmic layer underlying the skin, he
might say that while this consists of truly living units,
the cells produced in it, changing into epithelium scales,
become inert protective structures ; and pointing to the in-
sensitive nails, hair, horns, etc., arising from this layer,
he might show that such parts, though components of the
organism, are hardly living components. Carrying out the
argument, he would contend that elsewhere in the body there
exist such protoplasmic layers, from which grow the tissues
composing the various organs — layers which alone remain
fully alive, while the structures evolved from them lose
their vitality in proportion as they are specialized : in-
stancing cartilage, tendon, and connective tissue, as showing
this in conspicuous ways. From all which he would draw the
inference that though the body forms a coherent whole, its
essential units, taken by themselves, form a whole which is
coherent only throughout the protoplasmic layers.

And then would follow the facts showing that the social
organism, rightly conceived, is much less discontinuous than
it seems. He would contend that as, in the individual
organism, we include with the fully living parts, the less
living and not living parts which co-operate in the total
activities; so, in the social organism, we must include not
only those most highly vitalized units, the human beings,
who chiefly determine its phenomena, but also the various
kinds of domestic animals, lower in the scale of life, which,
under the control of man, co-operate with him, and even
those far inferior structures, the plants, which, propa-
gated by human agency, supply materials for animal and
human activities. In defence of this view he would point
out how largely these lower classes of organisms, co-existing

A SOCIETY IS AN ORGANISM. 447

with men in societies, affect the structures and activities of
the societies — how the traits of the pastoral type depend on
the natures of the creatures reared; and how in settled
societies the plants producing food, materials for textile
fabrics, etc., determine certain kinds of social, arrangements
and actions. After which he might insist that since the
physical characters, mental natures, and daily doings, of
the human units, are, in part, moulded by relations to these
animals and vegetals, which, living by their aid and aiding
them to live, enter so much into social life as even to be
cared for by legislation, these lower forms cannot rightly be
excluded from the conception of the social organism. Hence
would come his conclusion that when, with human beings,
are incorporated the less vitalized beings, animal and vegetal,
covering the surface occupied by the society, there results an
aggregate having a continuity of parts more nearly ap-
proaching to that of an individual organism; and which
is also like it in being composed of local aggregations of
highly vitalized units, imbedded in a vast aggregation of
units of various lower degrees of vitality, which are, in a
sense, produced by, modified by, and arranged by, the higher
units.

But without accepting this view, and admitting that the
discreteness of the social Organism stands in marked con-
trast with the concreteness of the individual organism, the
objection may still be adequately met.

§ 221. Though coherence among its parts is a pre-
requisite to that co-operation by which the life of an indi-
vidual organism is carried on; and though the members of
a social organism, not forming a concrete whole, cannot main-
tain co-operation by means of physical influences directly
propagated from part to part ; yet they can and do main-
tain co-operation by another agency. Not in contact, they
nevertheless affect one another through intervening spaces,
both by emotional language and by the language, oral

448 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

and written, of the intellect For carrying on mutually-
dependent actions, it is requisite that impulses, adjusted in
their kinds, amounts, and times, shall be conveyed from
part to part This requisite is fulfilled in living bodies by
molecular waves, that are indefinitely diffused in low types,
and in high types are carried along definite channels (the
function of which has been significantly called inter-
nuncial). It is fulfilled in societies by the signs of feelings
and thoughts, conveyed from person to person; at first in
vague ways and only through short distances, but afterwards
more definitely and through greater distances. That is to say,
the inter-nuncial function, not achievable by stimuli physi-
cally transferred, is nevertheless achieved by language-
emotional and intellectual.

That mutual dependence of parts which constitutes organ-
ization is thus effectually established. Though discrete
instead of concrete, the social aggregate is rendered a living
whole.

§ 222. But now, on pursuing the course of thought
opened by this objection and the answer to it, we arrive
at an implied contrast of great significance — a contrast
fundamentally affecting our idea of the ends to be achieved
by social life.

Though the discreteness of a social organism does not
prevent sub-division of functions and mutual dependence of
parts, yet it does prevent that differentiation by which one
part becomes an organ of feeling and thought, while other
parts become insensitive. High animals of whatever class
are distinguished from low ones by complex and well-inte-
grated nervous systems. While in inferior types the minute
scattered ganglia may be said to exist for the benefit of other
structures, the concentrated ganglia in superior types are
the structures for the benefit of which the rest may be said to
exist Though a developed nervous system so directs the
actions of the whole body as to preserve its integrity; yet

A SOCIETY IS AN ORGANISM. 449

the welfare of the nervous system is the ultimate object of
all these actions : damage to any other organ being serious in
proportion as it immediately or remotely* entails that pain or
loss of pleasure which the nervous system suffers. But
the discreteness of a society negatives differentiations car-
ried to this extreme. In an individual organism the minute
living units, most of them permanently localized, growing
up, working, reproducing, and dying away in their re-
spective places, are in successive* generations moulded to
their respective functions; so that soma become specially
sentient and others entirely insentient But it is otherwise
in a social organism. The units of this, out of contact
and much less rigidly held- in their- relative positions, can-
not be so much differentiated as to become feelingless units
and units which monopolize feeling. There* are-,

indeed, traces of such a differentiation. Human beings are
unlike in the amounts of sensation and emotion producible
in them by like causes : here callousness, here susceptibility,
is a characteristic. The mechanically- working and- hard-
living units are less sensitive than the- mentally- working
and more protected units. But while- the regulative struc-
tures of the social organism tend, like those of the individual
organism,, to- become- specialized as seats of feeling, the
tendency is checked by want of that physical cohesion which
brings fixity of function ; and it is also checked by the
continued need for feeling in the mechanically-workiug units
for the due* discharge of their functions.

Hence, then, a cardinal difference in the two kinds of
organisms. In the one, consciousness is concentrated in a
small part of the aggregate. In the other, it is diffused
throughout the aggregate : all the units possess the capaci-
ties for happiness and misery, if not in equal degrees, still
in degrees that approximate. As, then, there i» no * social
sensorium, the welfare* of the aggregate,- considered, apart
from that of the units,. is not an end to be sought The
society exists for the. benefit of its members ;, not its mem-

2 Q

450 THE INDUCTIONS 01 SOCIOLOGY.

bers for the benefit of the society. It has ever to be
remembered that great as may be the efforts made for the
prosperity <rf the body politic, yet the claims of the body
politic are nothing in themselves, and become something
only in so far as they embody the claims of its component
individuals.

§ 223. From this last consideration, which is a digression
rather than a part of the argument, let us now return and
sum up the reasons for regarding a society as an organism.

It undergoes continuous growth. As it grows, its parts
become unlike : it exhibits increase of structure. The unlike
parts simultaneously assume activities of unlike kinds.
These activities are not simply different, but their differ*
ences are so related as to make one another possible. The
reciprocal aid thus given <causes mutual dependence of the
parts. And the mutually-dependent parts, living by and for
one' another, form an aggregate constituted on the same
general principle as is an individual organism. The analogy
of a society to an organism becomes still clearer on learning
that every organism of appreciable size is a society ; and on
further learning that in both, the lives of the units continue
for some time if the life of the aggregate is suddenly arrested,
while if the aggregate is not destroyed by violence, its life
greatly exceeds in duration the lives of its units. Though
the two are contrasted as respectively discrete and concrete,
and though there results a difference in the ends subserved
by the organization, there does not result a difference in the
laws of the organization : the required mutual influences of
the parts, not transmissible in a direct way, being, in a
society, transmitted in an indirect way.

Having thus considered in their most general forms the
reasons for regarding a society as an organism, we are
prepared for following out the comparison in detail.

CHAPTER III.

SOCIAL GROWTH.

§ 224. Societies, like living bodies, begin as germs —
originate from masses which are extremely minute in com-
parison with the masses some of them eventually reach.
That out of small wandering hordes have arisen the largest
societies, is a conclusion not to be contested. The imple-
ments of pre-historic peoples, ruder even than existing
savages use, imply absence of those arts by which alone
great aggregations of men are made possible. Religious
ceremonies that survived among ancient historic races,
pointed back to a time when the progenitors of those races
had flint knives, and got fire by nibbing together pieces of
wood; and must have lived in such small clusters as are
alone possible before the rise of agriculture.

The implication is that by integrations, direct and indirect,
there have in course of time been produced social aggregates
a million times in size the aggregates which alone existed in
the remote past Here, then, is a growth reminding us,
by its degree, of growth in living bodies.

§ 225. Between this trait of organic evolution and the
answering trait of super-organic evolution, there is a further
parallelism : the growths in aggregates of different classes are
extremely various in their amounts.

2 G 2

452 THB INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

Glancing over the entire assemblage of animal typ^s, we
see that the members of one large class, the Protozoa, rarely
increase beyond that microscopic size with which every
higher animal begins. Among the multitudinous kinds of
Coelenterata, the masses range from that of the small Hydra
to that of the large -Medusa. The annulose and molluscous
types, respectively show us immense contrasts between their
superior and inferior members. And the vertebrate animals,
much larger on the average than the rest, display among
themselves enormous differences.

Kindred unlikenesses of size strike us when we contem-
plate the entire assemblage of human societies. Scattered
over many regions there are minute hordes — still extant
samples of the primordial type of society. We have Wood-
Veddahs living sometimes in pairs, and only now and
then assembling; we have Bushmen wandering about in
families,, and forming larger groups but occasionally; we
have Fuegians clustered by the dozen or the score. Tribes
of Australians, of Tasmanians, of Andamanese, are variable
within the limits of perhaps twenty to fifty. And similarly,
if the region is inhospitable, as with the Esquimaux, or if
the arts of life are undeveloped, as with the Digger-Indians,
or if adjacent higher races are obstacles to growth, as with
Indian Hill-tribes like the Juangs, this limitation to primi-
tive size continues- "Where a fruitful soil affords much
food, and where a more settled life, leading to agriculture,
again increases the supply of food, we meet with larger
social aggregates: instance those in the Polynesian Islands
and in many parts of Africa. Here a hundred or two, here
several thousands, here many thousands, are held together
more or less completely as one mass. And then in the
highest societies, instead of partially-aggregated thousands,
we have completely-aggregated millions.

§ 226. The growths of individual and social organisms
are allied in another respect. In each case size augments by

SOCIAL GROWTH. 453

two processes, which go on sometimes separately, Sometimes
together. There is increase by simple multiplication of
units, causing enlargement of the group; there is increase
by union of groups, and again by union of groups of groups.
The first parallelism is too simple to need illustration ; but
the facts which show us the second must be set forth.

Organic integration, treated of at length in the Principles
of Biology, §§ 180 — 211, must be here summarized to make
the comparison intelligible. The compounding and re-com-
pounding, as shown us throughout the vegetal kingdom, may
be taken first, as most easily followed. Plants of

the lowest orders are minute cells, some kinds of which in
their myriads colour stagnant waters, and others compose the
green films on damp surfaces. By clusterings of such cells are
formed small threads, discs, globes, etc. 4 as well as amor-
phous masses and laminated masses. One of these last
(called a thallus when scarcely at all differentiated, as in a
sea- weed, and called a frond in cryptogams that have some
structure), is an extensive but simple group of the protophytes
first named. Temporarily united in certain low cryptogams,
fronds become permanently united in higher cryptogams:
then forming a series of foliar surfaces joined by a creeping
stem. Out of this comes the phaenogamic axis — a shoot
with its foliar organs or leaves. That is to say, there is now
a permanent cluster of clusters. And then, as these axes
develop lateral axes, and as these again branch, the com-
pounding advances to higher stages. In the animal-
kingdom thfe like happens ; though in a less regular and more
disguised manner. The smallest animal, like the smallest
plant, is essentially a minute group of living molecules.
There are many forms and stages showing us the cluster-
ing of such smallest animals. Sometimes, as in the com-
pound VorticellijB and in the Sponges, their individualities
are scarcely at all masked ; but as evolution of the compo-
site aggregate advances, the individualities of the component
aggregates become less distinct In some Ccelenterata, though

454 THE INDUCTIONS 07 SOCIOLOGY.

they retain considerable independence, which they show by
moving about like Amaebce when separated, they have their
individualities mainly merged in that of the aggregate
formed of them: instance the common Hydra. Tertiary
aggregates similarly result from the massing of secondary
ones. Sundry modes and phases of the process are observ-
able among coelenterate types. There is the branched
hydroid, in which the individual polypes preserve their
identities, and the polypidom merely holds them together;
and there are forms, such as Velella, in which the polypes
have been so modified and fused, that their individualities
were long unrecognized. Again, among the MMuscoida we
have feebly-united tertiary aggregates in the Scdpidoc ; while
we have, in the Botryllidce, masses in which the tertiary
aggregate, greatly consolidated, obscures the individualities
of the secondary aggregates. So, too, is it with certain
aimuloid types; and, as I have sought to show, with the
Anmdosa generally. (Prin. of Biol., § 205.)

Social growth proceeds by an analogous compounding and
re-compounding. The primitive social group, like the primi-
tive group of living molecules with which organic evolution
begins, never attains any considerable size by simple increase.
Where, as among Fuegians, the supplies of wild food yielded
by an inclement habitat will not enable more than a score or
so to bve in the same place — where, as among Andamanese,
limited to a strip of shore backed by impenetrable bush,
forty is about the number of individuals who can find prey
Without going too far from their temporary abode — where,
as among Bushmen, wandering over barren tracts, small
hordes are alone possible, and even families " are sometimes
obliged to separate, since the same spot will not afford
sufficient sustenance for all;" we have extreme instances
of the limitation of simple groups, and the formation of
migrating groups when the limit is passed. Even in toler-
ably productive habitats, fission of the groups is eventually
necessitated in a kindred manner. Spreading as its number

SOCIAL GBOWTH. 455

increases, a primitive tribe presently reaches a diffusion at
which its parts become incoherent; and it then gradually
separates into tribes that become distinct as fast as their
continually-diverging dialects pass into different languages.
Often nothing further happens than repetition of this. Con-
flicts of tribes, dwindlings or extinctions of some, growths
and spontaneous divisions of others, continue. The

formation of a larger society results only by the joining of
such smaller societies ; which occurs without obliterating the
divisions previously caused by separations. This process may
be seen now going on among uncivilized races, as it once
went on among the ancestors of the civilized races. Instead
of absolute independence of small hordes* such as the lowest
savages show us, more advanced savages show us slight
cohesions among larger hordes. In North America each of
the three great tribes of Comanches consists of various
bands, having such feeble combination only, as results from
the personal character of the great chiet So of the Dakotahs
there are, according to Burton, seven principal bands* each
including minor bands, numbering altogether, according to
Oatlin, forty-two* And in like manner the five Iroquois
nations had severally eight tribea Closer unions of these
slightly-coherent original groups arise under favourable con-
ditions ; but they only now and then become permanent A
common form of the process is that described by Mason a*
occurring among the Karens. "Each village, with its scant
domain, is an independent state, and every chief a prince;
but now and then a little Napoleon arises* who subdues a
kingdom to himself, and builds up an empire; The dynas-
ties, however, last only with the controlling mind." The
like happens in Africa. Livingstone says — "Formerly all
the Maganja were united under the government of their
great Chief, Undi; ... but after Undi's death it fell to
pieces. . . . This has been the inevitable fete of every
African Empire from time immemorial" Only occasionally
does there result a compound social aggregate that endures

456 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

for a considerable period, as Dahomey or as Ashantee,
-which is " an assemblage of states owing a kind of feudal
obedience to the sovereign." The histories of Madagascar
and of sundry Polynesian islands also display these transi-
tory compound groups, out of which at length come in some
cases permanent ones. During the earliest times of the
extinct civilized races, like stages were passed through. In
the words of Maspero, Egypt was "divided at first into
a great number of tribes, which at several points simul-
taneously began to establish small independent states, every
one of which had its laws and its worship." The compound
groups of Greeks first formed, were those minor ones result-
ing from the subjugation of weaker towns by stronger neigh-
bouring towns. And in Northern Europe during pagan days,
the (numerous German tribes, each with its cantonal divisions,
illustrates » this second stage of aggregation. After

such compound societies are consolidated, repetition of the
process* on a larger scale produces doubly-compound societies ;
which, usually cohering but feebly, become in some cases
quite coherent. Maspero infers that the Egyptian nomes
described above as resulting from integrations of tribes,
coalesced into the two great principalities, Upper Egypt and
Lower Egypt, which were eventually united: the small
states becoming provinces. The boasting records of Meso-
potamian kings similarly show us this union of unions
going on. So, too, in Greece the integration at first
occurring locally, began afterwards to combine the minor
societies into two confederacies. During Roman days there
arose for defensive purposes federations of tribes, which
eventually consolidated; and subsequently these were com-
pounded into still larger aggregates. Before and after the
Christian era, the like happened throughout Northern
Europe. Then after a period of vague and varying combina-
tions, there came, in later times, as is well illustrated by
French history, a massing of small feudal territories into
provinces, And a subsequent massing of these into kingdoms.

SOCIAL GROWTH. 457

So that in both organic and super-organic growths, we see
a process of compounding and re-compounding carried to
various stages. In both cases, after some consolidation of
the smallest aggregates there comes the process of forming
larger aggregates by union of them; and in both cases re-
petition of this process makes secondary aggregates into
tertiary ones.

§ 227. Organic growth and super-organic growth have
yet another analogy. A** above said, increase by multipli-
cation of individuals in a group, and increase by union of
groups, may go on simultaneously ; and it does this in both
cases.

The original clusters, animal and social, are not only
small, but they lack density. Creatures of low types occupy
large spaces considering the small quantities of animal sub-
stance they contain.; and low-type societies spread over areas
that are wide relatively to the numbers of their component
individuals. But as integration in animals is shown by con-
centration as well as by increase of bulk; so that social
integration which results from the clustering of clusters, is
joined with augmentation of the number contained by each
cluster. If we contrast the sprinklings in regions inhabited
by wild tribes with the crowds filling equal regions in
Europe; or if we ^contrast the density of population in
England under the Heptarchy with its present density ; we
see that besides the growth produced by union of groups
there has gone on interstitial growth. Just as the higher
animal has become not only larger than the lower but more
solid ; so, too, has the higher society.

Social growth, then, equally with the growth of a living
body, shows us the fundamental trait of evolution under a
twofold aspect Integration is displayed both in the forma-
tion of a larger mass, and in the progress of such mass
towards that coherence due to closeness of parts.

It is proper to add, however, that there is a mode of social

458 THE DTDUCTIONa OF SOCIOLOGY.

growth to which organic growth affords no parallel — that
caused by the migration of units from one society to an*
other. Among many primitive groups and a few developed
ones, this is a considerable factor; bat, generally, its effect
bears so small a ratio to the effects of growth by increase of
population and coalescence of groups, that it does not much
qualify the analogy.

CHAPTER IV.

SOCIAL STB0CTT7&ES.

§ 228. Iff societies, as in living bodies, increase of mass
is habitually accompanied by increase of structure. Along
with that integration which is the primary trait of evolu-
tion, both exhibit in high degrees the secondary trait,
differentiation.

The association of these two characters in animals was
described in the PrmcipUs of Biology, § 44. Excluding
certain low kinds of them whose activities are little above
those of plants, we recognized the general law that large
aggregates have high organizations. The qualifications
of this law which go along with differences of me-
dium, of habitat, of type, are numerous; but when
made they leave intact the truth that for carrying on the
combined life of an extensive mass, involved arrangements
are required. So, too, is it with societies. As we

progress from small groups to larger ; from simple groups to
compound groups ; from compound groups to doubly com-
pound ones ; the unlikenesses of parts increase. The social
aggregate, homogeneous when minute, habitually gains in
heterogeneity along with each increment of growth ; and to
reach great size must acquire great complexity. Let us
glanee at the leading stages.

Naturally in a state like that of the Cayaguas or Wood-
Indians of South America, so little social that " one family

460 THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY.

lives at a distance from another/' social organization is
impossible; and even where there is some slight associa-
tion of families, organization does not arise while they
are few and wandering. Groups of Esquimaux, of Aus-
tralians, of Bushmen, of Fuegians, are without even that
primary contrast of parts implied by settled chieftainship.
Their members are subject to no control but such as is
temporarily acquired by the stronger, or more cunning, or
more experienced : not even a permanent nucleus is present
Habitually where larger simple groups exist, we find some
kind of head. Though not a uniform rule (for, as we shall
hereafter see, the genesis of a controlling agency depends on
the nature of the social activities), this is a general rule.
The headless clusters, wholly ungoverned, are incoherent, and
separate before they acquire considerable sizes; but along
with maintenance of an aggregate approaching to, or exceed-
ing, a hundred, we ordinarily find a simple or compound
ruling agency — one or more men claiming and exercising
authority that is natural, or supernatural, or both This is
the first social differentiation. Soon after it there

frequently comes another, tending to form a division be-
tween regulative and operative parts. In the lowest tribes
this is rudely represented only by the contrast in status
between the sexes: the men, having unchecked control,
carry on such external activities as the tribe shows us,
chiefly in war; while the women are made drudges who
perform the less skilled parts of the process of sustentation.
But that tribal growth, and establishment of chieftainship,
which gives military superiority, presently causes enlarge-
ment of the operative part by adding captives to it. This
begins unobtrusively. While in battle the men are killed,
and often afterwards eaten, the non-combatants are enslaved.
Patagonians, for example, make slaves of women and children
taken in war. Later, and especially when cannibalism
ceases, comes the enslavement of male captives; whence
results, in some cases, an operative part clearly marked off

SOCIAL STBUCTURES. 461

from the regulative part Among the Chinooks, " slaves do
all the laborious work." We read that the Beluchi, avoiding
the hard labour of cultivation, impose it on the Jutts, the
ancient inhabitants whom they have subjugated. Beecham
says it is usual on the Gold Coast to make the slaves clear
the ground for cultivation. And among the Felatahs " slaves
are numerous : the males are employed in weaving, collecting
wood or grass, or on any other kind of work ; some of the
women are engaged in spinning ... in preparing the yarn
for the loom, others in pounding and grinding corn, etc."

Along with that increase of mass caused by union of
primary social aggregates into a secondary one, a further
unlikeness of parts arises. The holding together of the com-
pound cluster implies a head of the whole as well as heads of
the parts; and a differentiation analogous to that which
originally produced a chief, now produces a chief of chiefs.
Sometimes the combination is made for defence against a
common foe, and sometimes it results from conquest by one
tribe of the rest In this last case the predominant tribe, in
maintaining its supremacy, develops more highly its mili-
tary character : thus becoming unlike the others.

After such clusters of clusters have been so consolidated
that their united powers can be wielded by one governing
agency, there come alliances with, or subjugations of, other
clusters of clusters, ending from time to time in coalescence.
When this happens there results still greater complexity in
the governing agency, with its king, local rulers, and petty
chiefs; and at the same time, there arise more marked
divisions of classes — military, priestly, slave, etc. Clearly,
then, complication of structure accompanies increase of mass.

§ 229. This increase of heterogeneity, which in both
classes of aggregates goes along with growth, presents
another trait in common. Beyond unlikenesses of parts
due to development of the co-ordinating agencies, there
presently follow unlikenesses among the agencies co-

462 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

ordinated — the organs of alimentation, etc, in the one case,
and the industrial structures in the other.

When animal-aggregates of the lowest order unite to
form one of a higher order, and when, again, these secondary
aggregates are compounded into tertiary aggregates, each
component is at first similar to the other components ; but
in the course of evolution dissimilarities arise and become
more and more decided. Among the Codenierata the stages
are clearly indicated From the sides of a common hydra,
bud out young ones which, when fully developed, separate
from their parent. In the compound hydroids the young
polypes produced in like manner, remain permanently
attached, and, themselves repeating the process, presently
form a branched aggregate. When the members of the
compound group lead similar and almost independent lives,
as in various rooted genera, they remain similar : save those
of them which become reproductive organs. But in the
floating and swimming clusters, formed by a kindred process,
the differently-conditioned members become different, while
assuming different functions. It is thus with the

minor social groups combined into a major social group.
Each tribe originally had within itself such feebly-marked
industrial divisions as sufficed for its low kind of life ; and
these were like those of each other tribe. But union facili-
tates exchange of commodities; and if, as mostly happens,
the component tribes severally occupy localities favour-
able to unlike kinds of production, unlike occupations are
initiated, and there result unlikenesses of industrial struc-
tures. Even between tribes not united, as those of Australia,
barter of products furnished by their respective habitats
goes on so long as war does not hinder. And evidently
when there is reached such a stage of integration as in
Madagascar, or as in the chief Negro states of Africa, the
internal peace that follows subordination to one government
makes commercial intercourse easy. The like parts being
permanently held together, mutual dependence becomes

SOCIAL BTBXTCTUBES. 463

possible; and along with growing mutual dependence the
parts grow unlike.

§ 230. The advance of organization which thus follows
the advance of aggregation, alike in individual organisms
and in social organisms, conforms in both cases to the same
general law : differentiations proceed from the more general
to the more special. First broad and simple contrasts of
parts; then within each of the parts primarily contrasted,
changes which make unlike divisions of them ; then within
each of these unlike divisions, minor unlikenesses ; and so on
continually.

The successive stages in the development of a vertebrate
column, illustrate this law in animals. At the outset an
elongated depression of the blastoderm, called the " primitive
groove," represents the entire cerebrospinal axis: as yet
there are no marks of vertebrae, nor even a contrast between
the part which is to become head and the part which is
to become back-bone. Presently the ridges bounding this
groove, growing up and folding over more rapidly at the
anterior end, which at the same time widens, begin to make
the skull distinguishable from the spine ; and the commence-
ment of segmentation in the spinal part, while the cephalic
part remains unsegmented, strengthens the contrast Within
each of these main divisions minor divisions soon arise.
The rudimentary cranium, bending forward, simultaneously
acquires three dilatations indicating the contained nervous
centres ; while the segmentation of the spinal column,
spreading to its ends, produces an almost-uniform series of
* proto-vertebr®." At first these proto-vertebwe not only
differ very little from one .another, but each is relatively
simple — a quadrate mass. Gradually this almost-uniform
series falls into unlike divisions — the cervical group, the
dorsal group, the lumbar group; and while the series of
vertebrae is thus becoming specialized in its different regions,
each vertebra is changing from that general form which it at

464 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

first had in common with the rest, to the more special form
eventually distinguishing it from the rest Throughout the
embryo there are, at the same time, going on kindred pro-
cesses ; which, first making each large part unlike all other
large parts, then make the parts of that part unlike one
another. During social evolution analogous meta-

morphoses may everywhere be traced. The rise of the struc-
ture exercising religious control will serve as an example.
In simple tribes, and in clusters of tribes during their early
stages of aggregation, we find men who are at once sor-
cerers, priests, divinersr exorcists,, doctors, — men who deal
with supposed supernatural beings, in all the various possible
ways : propitiating them, seeking knowledge and aid from
them, commanding them, subduing them. Along with
advance in social integration, there come both differences
of function and differences of rank.. In Tanna "there
are rain-makers .. .. .. and a host of other ' saored men ;' "

in Fiji there are not only priests, but seers; among the
Sandwich Islanders, there are diviners as well as priests ;
among the New Zealandersr Thomson distinguishes between
priests and sorcerers ; and among the Kaffirs, besides diviners
and rain-makers, there are two* classes of doctors who respec-
tively rely on supernatural and on natural agents in curing
their patients. More advanced societies, as those of an-
cient America, show us still greater multiformity of this
once-uniform group. In- Mexico,, for example, the medical
class, descending from a class of sorcerers who dealt an-
tagonistically with the supernatural agents supposed to
cause disease, were distinct from the priests, whose dealings
with supernatural agents were propitiatory. Further, the
sacerdotal class included several kinds, dividing the
religious offices among them — sacrificers, diviners, singers,
composers of hymns, instructors of youth ; and then there
were also gradations of rank in each. This progress from
general to special in priesthoods, has, in the higher nations,
led to such marked distinctions that the original kinships are

SOCIAL STRUCTURES. 4C5

forgotten. The priest-astrologers of ancient races weTe ini-
tiators of the scientific class, now variously specialized ;
from the priest-doctors of old have come the medical class
with its chief division and minor divisions ; while within the
clerical class proper, have arisen not only various ranks
from Pope down to acolyte, but various kinds of func-
tionaries—dean, priest, deacon, chorister, as well as others
classed as curates and chaplains. Similarly if we trace the
genesis of any industrial structure; as that which from
primitive blacksmiths who smelt their own iron as well as
make implements from it, brings us to our iron-manu-
facturing districts, where preparation of the metal is
separated into smelting, refining, puddling, rolling, and
where turning this metal into implements is divided into
various businesses.

The transformation here illustrated, is, indeed, an aspect
of that transformation of the homogeneous into the hetero-
geneous which everywhere characterizes evolution ; but the
truth to be noted is that it characterizes the evolution of
individual organisms and of social organisms in especially
high degrees.

$ 231. Closer study of the facts shows us another striking
parallelism. Organs in animals and organs in societies have
internal arrangements framed on the same principle.

Differing from one another as the viscera of a living
creature do in many respects, they have several traits in
common. Each viscus contains appliances for conveying
nutriment to its parts, for bringing it materials on which
to operate, for carrying away the product, for draining off
waste matters ; as also for regulating its activity. Though
liver and kidneys are unlike in their general appearances
and minute structures, as well as in the offices they fulfil,
the one as much as the other has a system of arteries, 9
system of veins, a system of lymphatics — has branched
channels through which its excretions escape, and nerves

2 H

466 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

for exciting anil checking it In large measure the like;
is true of those higher organs which, instead of elaborating
and purifying and distributing the blood, aid the general
life by carrying on external actions — the nervous and mus-
cular organs. These, too, have their ducts for bringing
prepared materials, ducts for drafting off vitiated materials,
ducts for carrying away effete matters; as also their con-
trolling nerve-cells and fibres. So that, along with the many
marked differences of structure, there are these marked
oommunitiet of structure.

It is the same in a society. The clustered citizen form-
ing an organ which produces some commodity for national
use, or which otherwise satisfies national wants, has within
it subservient structures substantially like those of each
other organ carrying on each other function. Be it a cotton-
weaving district or a district where cutlery is made, it has a
set of agencies which bring the raw material, and a set of
agencies which collect and send away the manufactured
articles; it has an apparatus of major and minor channels
through which the necessaries of life are drafted out of
the general stocks circulating through the kingdom, and
brought home to the local workers and those who direct
them ; it has appliances, postal and other, for bringing those
impulses by which the industry of the place is excited or
checked ; it has local controlling powers, political and eccle-r
siastical, by which order is maintained and healthful action
furthered. So, too, when, from a district which secretes
certain goods, we turn to a sea-port wjiich absorbs and
sends out goods, we find the distributing and restraining
agencies are mostly the same. Even where the social organ,
instead of carrying on a material activity, has, like a uni-
versity, the office of preparing certain classes of units for
social functions of particular kinds, this general type of
structure is repeated : the appliances for local sustentation
and regulation, differing in some respects, are similar in
essentials — there are like classes of distributors, like classes.

SOCIAL STHUCT0BE8. 46?

far civil control, and a specially-developed class for eccle-
siastical control

On observing that this community of structure among
social organs, like the community of structure among organs
in a living body, necessarily accompanies mutual dependence,
we shall see even more clearly than hitherto, how great
is the likeness of nature between individual organisation
and social organization.

§ 232. Orie - more structural analogy must be named.
The formation of organs in a living body proceeds in ways
which we may distinguish as primary, secondary, and ter-
tiary ; and, .paralleling them, there are primary, secondary,
and tertiary ways in which social organs are formed. We
will look at each of the three parallelisms by itself.

In animals of low types,*bile is secreted, not by a liver,
but by separate cells imbedded in the wall of the intestine
at one part These cells individually perform their function
of separating certain matters from the blood, and indivi-
dually pour out what they separata No organ, strictly
so-called, exists ; but only a- number of units not yet aggre-
gated into an organ. . This is analogous to the
incipient form of an industrial structure in a society. At
first each worker carries on his occupation alone, and him-
self disposes of the product to consumers. The arrangement
still extant in our villages, where the oobbler at his own
fireside makes and sells boots, and where the blacksmith
single-handed does what iron-work is needed by his neigh-
bours, exemplifies the primitive type of every producing
structure. Among savages slight differentiations arise from
individual aptitudes. Even of the degraded Fuegians, Fitz-
roy telis us that "one becomes an adept with the spear;
another with the sling; another with a bow and arrows."
As like differences of skill among members of primitive
tribes, cause some to become makers of special things, it
results that necessarily the industrial organ begins as a

2 h 2

468 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

social unit. Where, as among the Shasta Indiaus of Cali-
fornia, "arrow-making is a distinct profession/' it is clear
that manipulative superiority being the cause of the differen-
tiation, the worker is at first single. And during subsequent
periods of growth, even in small settled communities, this
type continues. The statement that among the Coast
Negroes, " the most ingenious man in the village is usually
the blacksmith, joiner, architect, and weaver," while it shows
us artizan-functions in an undifferentiated stage, also shows
us how completely individual is the artizan-structure : the
implication being that as the society grows, it is by the
addition of more such individuals, severally carrying on
their occupations independently, that the additional demand
is met

By two simultaneous changes, an incipient secreting organ
in an animal reaches that higher structure with which our
next comparison may be made. The cells pass from a
scattered cluster into a compact cluster; and they severally
become compound. In place of a single cell elaborating and
emitting its special product, we now have a small elongated
sac containing a family of cells; and this, through an
opening at one end, gives exit to their products. At the
same time there is formed an integrated group of such
follicles, each containing secreting units and having its
separate orifice of discharge. To this type of in-

dividual organ, we find, in semi-civilized societies, a type
of social organ closely corresponding. In one of these settled
and growing communities, the demands upon individual
workers, now more specialized in their occupations, have
become unceasing; and each worker, occasionally pressed
by work, makes helpers of his children. This practice,
beginning incidentally, establishes itself; and eventually it
grows into an imperative custom that each man shall bring
up his boys to his own trade. Illustrations of this stage are
numerous. Skilled occupations, "like every other calling
and office in Peru, always descended from father to son.

SOCIAL STRUCTURES. 469

The division of castes, in this particular, was as precise
as that which existed in Egypt or Hindostan." In Mexico,
too, " the sons in general learned the trades of their fathers,
and embraced their professions." The like was true of the
industrial structures of European nations in early times.
By the Theodosian code, a Roman youth "was compelled
to follow the employment of his father . . . and the suitor
who sought the hand of the daughter could only obtain his
bride by becoming wedded to the calling of her family/*
In mediaeval France handicrafts were inherited; and the
old English periods were characterized by a like usage.
Branching of the family through generations into a number
of kindred families carrying on the same occupation, pro-
duced the germ of the guild ; and the related families who
monopolized each industry formed a cluster habitually
occupying the same quarter. Hence the still extant names
of many streets in English towns — " Eellmonger, Horse-
monger, and Fleshmonger, Shoewright and Shieldwright,
Turner and Salter Streets:" a segregation like that which
still persists in Oriental bazaars. And now, on observing
how one of these industrial quarters was composed of many
allied families, each containing sons working under direction
of a father, who while sharing in the work sold the produce,
and who, if the family and business were large, became
mainly a channel taking in raw material and giving out the
manufactured article, we see that there existed an analogy
to the kind of glandular organ described above, which con-
sists of a number of adjacent cell-containing, follicles having
separate mouths.

A third stage of the analogy may be traced. Along with
that increase of a glandular organ necessitated by the more
active functions of a more developed animal, there goes a
change of structure consequent on augmentation of bulk.
If the follicles multiply while their ducts have all to be
brought to one spot, it results that their orifices, increas.
ingly numerous, occupy a larger area of the wall of the.

470 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

•

cavity which receives the discharge ; and if lateral extension
of this area is negatived by the functional requirements, it
results that the needful area is gained by formation of a
caecum. Further need of the same kind leads to secondary
caeca diverging from this main caecum ; which hence becomes,
in part, a duct. Thus is at length evolved a large viscus,
such as a liver, having a single main duct with ramifying
branches running throughout its mass. Now we

rise from the above-described kind of industrial organ by
parallel stages to a higher kind. There is no sudden leap
from the household-type to the factory-type, but a gradual
transition. The first step is shown us in those rules of trade-
guilds under which, to the members of the family, might be
•added an apprentice (possibly at first a relation), who, as
Brentano says, "became a member, of the family of his
master, who instructed him in his trade, and who, like a
father, had to watch over his morals, as well as his work:"
practically, an adopted son. This modification having been
established, there followed the employing of apprentices who
had changed into journeymen. With development of this
modified household-group, the master grew into a seller of
goods made, not by his own family only, but by others;
and, as his business enlarged, necessarily ceased to be a
worker, and became wholly a distributor — a channel through
which went out the products, not of a few sons, but of many
unrelated artizans. This led the way to establishments in
which the employed far outnumbered the members of the
family ; until at length, with the use of mechanical power,
came the factory: a series of rooms, each containing a
crowd of producing units, and sending its tributary stream
of product to join other streams before reaching the single
place of exit. Finally, in greatly-developed industrial organs,
we see many factories clustered in the same town, and others
in adjacent towns; to and from which, along branching
roads, come the- raw materials and go the bales of cloth,
calico, etc.

There are instances in which a new industry passes through

80CIAL STRUCTURES. 471

these stages in tbe course of a few generations ; as happened
with the stocking-manufacture. In the Midland counties,
fifty years ago, the rattle and burr of a solitary stocking-
frame came from a road-side cottage every here and there :
the single worker made and sold his product Presently
arose work-shops in which several such looms might be
heard going : there was the father and his sons, with perhaps
a journeyman. At length grew up the large building con-
taining many looms driven by a steam-engine ; and finally
many such large buildings in the same town.

§ 233. These structural analogies reach a final phase that
is still more striking. In both cases there is a contrast
between the original mode of development and a substituted
later mode.

In the general course of organic evolution from low types
to high, there have been passed through by insensible modi-
fications all the stages above described; but now, in the
individual evolution of an organism of high type, these
stages are greatly abridged, and an organ is produced by a
comparatively direct process. Thus the liver of a mamma-
lian embryo is formed by the accumulation of numerous
cells, which presently grow into a mass projectii g from the
wall of the intestine; while simultaneously there dips
down into it a caecum from the intestine. Transforma-
tion of this ceecum into the hepatic duct takes place at
the same time that within the mass of cells there arise
minor ducts, connected with this main duct; and there
meanwhile go on other changes which, during evolution
of the organ through successively higher types, came one
after another. In the formation of industrial

organs the like happens. Now that the factory system is
well-established — now that it has become ingrained in the
social constitution, we see direct assumptions of it in all
industries for which its fitness has been shown. If at one
place the discovery of ore prompts the setting up of iron-
works, or at another a special kind of water facilitates

472 THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY.

brewing, there is no passing through the early stages of
single worker, family, clustered families, and so on; but
there is a sudden drafting of materials and men to the spot,
followed by formation of a producing structure on the
advanced type. Nay, not one large establishment only is
thus evolved after the direct manner, but a cluster of large
establishments. At Barrow-in-Furness we see a town with
its iron- works, ' its importing and exporting businesses, its
extensive docks and means of communication, all in the
space of a few years framed after that type which it has
taken centuries to develop through successive modifications.

An allied but even more marked change in the evolu-
tionary process, is also common to both cases. Just as in
the embryo of a high animal, various organs have their im-
portant parts laid down out of their original order, in
anticipation, as it were; so, with the body at large, it
happens that entire organs which, during the serial genesis
of the type, came comparatively late, come in the evolving
individual comparatively soon. This, which Prof. Haeckel
has called heterochrony, is shown us in the early marking
out of the brain in a mammalian embryo, though in the
lowest vertebrate animal, no brain ever exists; or, again,
in the segmentation of the spinal column before any alimen-
tary system is formed, though, in a proto-vertebrate, even
when its alimentary system is completed, there are but
feeble signs of segmentation. The analogous change

of order in social evolution, is shown us by new societies
which inherit the confirmed habits of old ones. Instance the
United States, where a town in the far west, laid down in
its streets and plots, has its hotel, church, post-office, built
while there are but few houses; and where a railway is
run through the wilderness in anticipation of settlements.
Or instance Australia, where a few years after the huts
of gold-diggers begin to cluster round new mines, there
is established a printing-office and journal; though, in
the mother-country, centuries passed before a town of like
size developed a like agency.

CHAPTER V.

SOCIAL FUNCTIONS.

§ 234 Changes of structures cannot occur without
changes of functions. Much that was said in the last
chapter might, therefore, be said here with substituted
terms. Indeed, as in societies many changes of structure
are more indicated by changes of function than directly
seen, it may be said that these last have been already de-
scribed by implication.

There are, however, certain functional traits not mani-
festly implied by traits of structure. To these a few pages
must be devoted*

§ 235. If organization consists in such a construction of
the whole that its parts can carry on mutually-dependent
actions, then in proportion as organization is high there
must go a dependence of each part upon the rest so great
that separation is fatal; and conversely. This truth is
equally well shown in the individual organism and in the
social organism.

The lowest animal-aggregates are so constituted that each
portion, similar to every other in appearance, carries on
similar actions ; and here spontaneous or artificial separation
interferes scarcely at all with the life of either separated
portion. When the faintly-differentiated speck of protoplasm
iorming a Rhizopod is accidentally divided, each division

474 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

goes on as before. So, too, is it with those aggregates of the
second order in which the components remain substantially
alike. The ciliated monads clothing the horny fibres of a
living sponge, need one another's aid so little that, when the
sponge is cut in two, each half carries on its processes with-
out interruption. Even where some unlikeness has arisen
among the units, as in the familiar polype, the perturbation
caused by division is but temporary : the two or more por-
tions resulting, need only a little time for the units to re-
arrange themselves into fit forms before resuming their
ordinary simple actions. The like happens for the

like reason with the lowest social aggregates. A headless
wandering group of primitive men divides without any
inconvenience. Each man, at once warrior, hunter, and
maker of his own weapons, hut, etc, with a squaw who has
iu every case the like drudgeries to carry on, needs con-
cert with his fellows only in war and to some extent in
-the chase ; and, except for fighting, concert with half the
tribe is as good as concert with the whole. Even where the
slight differentiation implied by chieftainship exists, little
inconvenience results from voluntary or enforced separation.
Either before or after a part of the tribe migrates, some
man becomes head, and such low social life as is possible
recommences.

With highly-organized aggregates of either kind it is
very different We cannot cut a mammal in two without
causing immediate death. Twisting off the head of a fowl
is fatal. Not even a reptile, though it may survive the loss
of its tail, can live when its body is divided. And among
annulose creatures it similarly happens that though in some
inferior genera, bisection does not kill either half, it kills
both in an insect, an arachnid, or a crustacean. If

in high societies the effect of mutilation is less than in high
animals, still it is great. Middlesex separated from its
surroundings would in a few days have all its social processes
stopped by lack of supplies. Cut off the cotton-district from

SOCIAL FUNCTIONS. 475

Liverpool and other ports, and there would come arrest
of its industry followed by mortality of its people. Let a
division be made between the coal-mining populations and
.adjacent populations which smelt metals or make broadcloth
by machinery, and both, forthwith dying socially by arrest
of their actions, would begin to die individually. Though
when a civilized society is so divided that part of it is left
without a central controlling agency, it may pi^sently evolve
yne ; yet there is meanwhile much risk of dissolution, and
before re-organization is efficient, a long period of disorder
and weakness must be passed through.

So that the consensus of functions becomes closer as evolu-
tion advances. In low aggregates, both individual and
social, the actions of the parts are but little dependent on one
•another ; whereas in developed aggregates of both kinds, that
combination of actions which constitutes the life of the whole,
makes possible the component actions which constitute the
lives of the parts.

§ 236. Another corollary, manifest a priori and proved
a posteriori, must be named. Where parts are little differ-
entiated, they can readily perform one another's functions ;
but where much differentiated they can perform one another's
functions very imperfectly, or not at all.

Again the common polype furnishes a clear illustration.
One of these sack-shaped creatures admits of being turned
inside out, so that the skin becomes stomach and the
stomach becomes skin : each thereupon beginning to do the
work of the other. The higher we rise in the scale of
organization the less practicable do we fiud such exchanges.
Still, to some extent, substitutions of functions remain pos-
sible in highly developed creatures. Even in man the skin
jhows a trace of its original absorptive power, now mono-
polized by the alimentary canal: it takes into the system
certain small amounts of matter rubbed on to it. Such
vicarious actions are, however, most manifest between parts

47G THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

having functions that are still allied. If, for instance, the
bile-excreting function of the liver is impeded, other excre-
tory organs, the kidneys and the skin, become channels
through which bile is got rid of. If a cancer in the oeso-
phagus prevents swallowing, the arrested food, dilating the
<B8ophagu8, forms a pouch in which imperfect digestion is
set up. But these small abilities of the differentiated parts
to discharge one another's duties, are not displayed where
they have diverged more widely. Though mucous mem-
brane, continuous with skin at various orifices, will, if
everted, assume to a considerable extent the characters and
powers of skin, yet serous membrane will not ; nor can bone
or muscle undertake, for any of the viscera, portions of their
functions if they faiL

In social organisms, low and high, we find these relatively
great and relatively small powers of substitution. Of course,
where each member of the tribe repeats every other in his
mode of life, there are no unlike functions to be exchanged ;
and where there has arisen only that small differentiation
implied by the barter of weapons for other articles, between
one member of the tribe skilled in weapon-making and
others less skilled, the destruction of this specially-skilled
member entails no great evil; since the rest can severally
do for themselves that which he did for them, though not
quite so well. Even in settled societies of considerable sizes,
we find the like holds to a great degree. Of the ancient
Mexicans, Zurita says — " Every Indian knows all handicrafts
which do not require great skill or delicate instruments ;*
and in Peru each man " was expected to be acquainted with
the various handicrafts essential to domestic comfort:'9 the
parts of the societies were so slightly differentiated in their
occupations, that assumption of one another's occupations
remained practicable. But in societies like our own, spe-
cialized industrially and otherwise in high degrees, the
actions of one part which fails in its function cannot be
assumed by other parts. Even the relatively-unskilled farm

SOCIAL FUNCTIONS. 4T7.

labourers, were they to strike, would have their duties very
inadequately performed by the urban population; and our
iron manufactures would be stopped if their trained artizans,
refusing to work, had to be replaced by peasants or hands
from cotton-factories. Still less could the higher functions,
legislative, judicial, etc., be effectually performed by coal-
miners and navvies.

Evidently the same reason for this contrast holds in the
cwo cases. In proportion as the units forming any part of
an individual organism are limited to one kind of action, as
that of absorbing, or secreting, or contracting, or conveying
an impulse, and become adapted to that action, they lose
adaptation to other actions ; and in the social organism the
discipline required for effectually discharging a special duty,
causes unfitness for discharging special duties widely un-
like it.

§ 237. Beyond these two chief functional analogies be-
tween individual organisms and social organisms, that when
they are little evolved, division or mutilation causes small
inconvenience, but when they are much evolved it causes
great perturbation or death, and that in low types of either
kind the parts can assume one another's functions, but can-
not in high types; sundry consequent functional analogies
might be enlarged on did space permit.

There is the truth that in both kinds of organisms the
vitality increases as fast as the functions become specialized.
In either case, before there exist structures severally adapted
for the unlike actions, these are ill-performed ; and in the
absence of developed appliances for furthering it, the utiliza-
tion of one another's services is but slight. But along with
advance of organization, every part, more limited in its office,
performs its office better; the means of exchanging benefits
become greater ; each aids all, and all aid each with increas-
ing efficiency ; and the total activity we call life, individual
or national, augments.

478 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

Much, too, remains to be said about the parallelism be-
tween the changes by which the functions become specialized;
but this, along with other parallelisms, will best be seen on
following out, as we will now do, the evolution of the several
great systems of organs, individual and social: considering
their respective structural and functional traits together.

CHAPTER VI.

BY9TEMS OF ORGANS.

§ 237a. Thb hypothesis of evolution implies a truth which
was established independently of it — the truth that all
animals, however unlike they finally become, begin their
developments in like ways. The first structural changes,
once passed through in common by divergent types, are
repeated in the early changes undergone by every new
individual of each type. Admitting some exceptions, chiefly
among parasites, this is recognized as a general law.

This common method of development among individual
organisms, we may expect to find paralleled by some com-
mon method among social organisms; and our expectation
will be verified.

§ 238. In First Principle (§§ 149—152) and in the Prin-
ciples of Biology (§§ 287 — 9) were described the primary
organic differentiations which arise in correspondence with
the primary contrasts of conditions among the parts, as outer
and inner. Neglecting earlier stages, let us pass to those
which show us the resulting systems of organs in their
simple forms.

The aggregated units composing the lowest ccelenterate
animal, have become so arranged that there is an outer layer
of them directly exposed to the surrounding medium with
its inhabitants, and an inner layer lining the digestive cavity

480 Tnr, INDUCTIONS OF sociology.

directly exposed only to the food. From units of the outer
layer are formed those tentacles by which small creatures
are caught, and those thread-cells, as they are called, whence
are ejected minute weapons against invading larger creatures ;
while Jby units of (he inner layer is poured out the solvent
which prepares the food for that absorption afterwards
effected by them, both for their own sustentation and for
the sustentation of the rest. Here we have in its first stage
the fundamental distinction which pervades the animal king-
dom, between the external parts which deal with environ-
ing existences — earth, air, prey, enemies, — and the internal
parts which utilize for the benefit of the entire body the
nutritious substances which the external parts have se-
cured. Among the higher Ccelenterata a complicat-
ion occurs. In place of each single layer of units there,
is a double layer, and between the two double layers a
space. This space, partially separate from the stomach in
creatures of this type, becomes completely shut off in types
above it In these last the outer double layer forms the
wall of the body; the inner double layer bounds the ali-
mentary cavity; and the space between them, containing
absorbed nutriment, is the so-called peri-visceral sac. Though
the above-described two simple layers with their inter-
vening protoplasm, are but analogous to the outer and
inner systems of higher animals, these two double layers,
with the intervening cavity, are homologous with the outer
and inner systems of higher animals. For in the course of
evolution the outer double layer gives rise to the skeleton,
the nervo-muscular system, the organs of sense, the protect-
ing structures, etc.; while the inner double layer becomes
the alimentary canal, with its numerous appended organs
which almost monopolize the cavity of the body.

Early stages which are in principle analogous, occur in
the evolution of social organisms. When from low tribes en-
tirely undifferentiated, we pass to tribes next above them, we
find classes of masters and slaves — masters who, as warriors

SYSTEMS OF ORGANS. 481

carry on the offensive and defensive activities and thus
especially stand in relations to environing agencies; and
slaves who carry on inner activities for the general sus-
tentation, primarily of their masters and secondarily of
themselves. Of course this contrast is at first vague.
Where the tribe subsists mainly on wild animals, its domi-
nant men, being hunters as well as warriors, take a large
share in procuring food ; and such* few captives as are made
by war, become men who- discharge the less skilled and
more laborious parts of the process of sustentation. But
along with establishment of the agricultural state, the
differentiation grows more, appreciable. Though members of
the dominant class, superintending the labour of their slaves
in the fields, sometimes join in it ; yet the subject-class- is
habitually the one immediately in contact with the food-
supply, and the dominant class, more remote from the food-
supply, is becoming directive only, with respect to internal
actions, while it is. both executive and directive with, respect
to external actions, offensive and defensive. A

society thus composed of two strata in contact, compli-
cates by the riser of grades within each stratum. For small
tribes the structure- just described suffices ; but where there
are formed aggregates of tribes, necessarily having more-
developed governmental and militant agencies, with ac-
companying moreKleveloped industrial agencies supporting
them, the higher and lower* strata severally begin? to dif-
ferentiate internally. The- superior class, besides minor
distinctions which arise locally, originates everywhere a sup-
plementary class of personal adherents- who are mostly also
warriors; while the inferior class begins to separate into
bond and free. Various of the Malayo-Polynesian societies
show us this stage. Among the East Africans, the Congo
people, the Coast Negroes, the Inland! Negroes, we find the
same general sub-division — the king with his relatives, the
class of chiefs, the common people, the slaves ; of which the
first two with their immediate dependents carry on the cor-

2 I

482 THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY.

porate actions of the society, and the second two those
actions of a relatively-separate order which yield it all the
necessaries of life.

§ 239. In both individual and social organisms, after the
•outer and inner systems have been marked off from one
another, there begins to arise a third system, lying between
the two and facilitating their co-operation. Mutual depend-
ence of the primarily-contrasted parts, implies intermedia-
tion; and in proportion as they develop, the apparatus for
exchanging products and influences must develop too. This
vwe find it does.

In the low ccelenterate animal first described, consisting
){ inner and outer layers with intervening protoplasm, the
nutritive matter which members of the inner layer have
absorbed from prey caught by members of the outer layer,
is transmitted almost directly to these members of the outer
layer. Not so, however, in the superior type. Between the
double-layered body-wall and the double-layered alimentary
cavity, there is now a partially-separate peri-visceral sac ;
and this serves as a reservoir for the digested matters from
which the surrounding tissues take up their shares of pre-
pared food. Here we have the rudiment of a distributing
system. Higher in the animal series, as in Mollusea, this
peri-visceral sac, quite shut off, has ramifications running
throughout the body, carrying nutriment to its chief organs ;
and in the central part of the sac is <a contractile tube
which, by its occasional pulses, causes irregular movements
in the nutritive fluid. Further advances axe shown by the
lengthening and branching of this tube, until, dividing and
sub-dividing, it becomes a set of blood-vessels, while its cen-
tral part becomes a heart As this change progresses,, the
nutriment taken up by the alimentary structures, is better
distributed by these vascular structures to the outer and
inner organs in proportion to their needs. Evidently this
distributing system must arise between the two pre-existing

SYSTEMS OF ORGANS. 483

systems; and it necessarily ramifies in proportion as the
parts to which it carries materials become more remote, more
numerous, and severally more complex.

The like happens in societies. The lowest types have no
distributing systems — no roads or traders exist. The two
original classes are in contact. Any slaves possessed by a
member of the dominant class, stand in such direct relation
to him that the transfer of products takes place without inter-
vening persons; and each family being self-sufficing, there
need no agents through whom to effect exchanges of products
between families. Even after these two primary divisions
become partially subdivided, we find that so long as the social
aggregate is a congeries of tribes severally carrying on
within themselves the needful productive activities, a dis-
tributing system is scarcely traceable : occasional assemblings
for barter alone occur. But as fast as consolidation of
such tribes makes possible the localization of industries,
there begins to show itself an appliance for transferring
commodities; consisting now of single hawkers, now of
travelling companies of traders, and growing with the
formation of roads into an organized system of wholesale
and retail. distribution which spreads everywhere.

§ 240. There are, then, parallelisms between these three
great systems in the two kinds of organisms. Moreover,
they arise in the social organism in the same order as in the
individual organism ; and for the same reasons.

A society lives by appropriating matters from the earth —
the mineral matters used for buildings, fuel, etc., the vegetal
matters raised on its surface for food and clothing, the
animal matters elaborated from these with or without human
regulation ; and the lowest social stratum is the one through
which such matters are taken up and delivered to agents
who pass them into the general current of commodities : the
higher part of this lowest stratum being that which, in work-
shops and factories, elaborates some of these materials

2 I 2

484 THE INDUCTIONS OP 80CIOLOGY.

before they go to consumers. Clearly, then, the classes
engaged in manual occupations play the same part in the
function of social sustentation, as is played by the com-
ponents of the alimentary organs in the sustentation of a
living body. No less certain is it that the entire

class of men engaged in buying and selling commodities
of all kinds, on large and small scales, and in sending them
along gradually-formed channels to all districts, towns,
and individuals, so enabling them to make good the waste
caused by action, is, along with those channels, fulfilling
an office essentially like that fulfilled in a living body
by the vascular system ; which, to every structure and every
unit of it, brings a current of nutritive matters pro-
portionate to its activity. And it is equally mai&
fest that while in the living body, the brain, the organs of
sense, and the limbs guided by them, distant in position
from the alimentary surfaces, are fed through the tortuous
channels of the vascular system; so the controlling parts
of a society, most remote from the operative parts, have
brought to them through courses of distribution often
extremely indirect, the needful supplies of consumable
articles.

That the order of evolution is necessarily the same in the
two cases, is just as clear. In a creature which is both very
small and very inactive, like a hydra, direct passage of nutri-
ment from the inner layer to the outer layer by absorption
suffices. But in proportion as the outer structures, becoming
more active, expend more, simple absorption from adjacent
tissues no longer meets the resulting waste; and in pro-
portion as the mass becomes larger, and the parts which
prepare nutriment consequently more remote from the parts
which consume it, there arises the need for a means of
transfer. Until the two original systems have been marked
off from one another, this tertiary system has no func-
tion; and when the two original systems arise, they can-
not develop far without corresponding development of this

SYSTEMS OF OBGANS. 485

tertiary system. In the evolution of the social

organism we see the like. Where there exist only a class of
masters and a class of slaves, in direct contact, an appliance
for transferring products has no place ; but a larger society
having classes exercising various regulative functions, and
localities devoted to different industries, not only affords
a place for a transferring system, but can grow and compli-
cate only on condition that this transferring system makes
proportionate advances.

And now, having observed the relations among these
three great systems, we may trace out the evolution of each
by itself.

CHAPTEE VIL

THE SUSTAINING? SYSTEM.

§ 241. The parts carrying on alimentation in a living
body and the parts carrying on productive industries in the
body politic, constitute, in either case, a sustaining system :
sustentation is the office they have in common. These parts
are differentiated in conformity with certain laws which are
common to individual organisms and social organisms ; and
of these laws the most general is that which concerns
localization of their divisions.

As a typical example of this localization in vegetal organ*
isms, may be named the ordinary contrast between the under*
ground parts and the above-ground parts — the first absorb*
ing water and mineral constituents, and the last, by the aid
of light, depriving the atmospheric carbonic acid of its car-
bon. That this distinction of functions is originally caused
by the relations of the two parts to environing agents,
is proved by the facts that if not covered with an opaque
bark, the root-part, when above the surface, becomes green
and decomposes carbonic acid, while, conversely, branches
bent down and imbedded in the ground develop rootlets.
That is to say, unlikeness of their conditions determines
this difference between the nutritive actions which these
two great divisions of the plant carry on for the good of
the whole. Among animals (with the exception

of certain entozoa which, being immersed in nutritive mat-

THB SUSTAINING SYSTEM. 487

ters, feed themselves through their outer surfaces) the outer
surfaces take no share in alimentation. As already
shown, the primary differentiation, establishing in the
external layers a monopoly of those activities which their
position makes possible, establishes in the internal layers
a monopoly of those activities by which the swallowed
prey is utilized. Here we have to* note how the gen-
eral process of utilization is divided among the parts of
the alimentary canal, in conformity with their respective
relations to nutritive matters. The course of evolution
will be roughly conceived on recalling the antithesis be-
tween the uniform digestive tube with undivided function
which an inferior creature possesses, and the multiform*
digestive apparatus, with great and small divisions of func-
tion, which a bird or mammal possesses. Secured in a solid
form, the food has first to be triturated; and hence tritu-
rating appliances when formed, come at, or near, the begin*
ning of the series, of structures — teeth where they exist, or
a gizzard where they do not Crushed to pieces, the
ingested substances must be further reduced before absorp-
tion can begin; and their presence in an incompletely
broken down state, therefore throws on a succeeding por-
tion of the alimentary canal the duty of completing the dis-
integration in a contractile sac, furnished with glands secret-
ing solvent liquids. The pulp produced in this sac entails
on the next part of the canal a different office. There can no
longer be trituration, or dissolution of large fragments into
minute shreds; and any further preparation must consist
in the addition of secretions which fit the matters for absorp-
tion. Preparation being now completed, there remains
nothing to do but take up what is prepared — the arrival at
a certain part of the alimentary canal in an absorbable
state, determines in that part the absorbing function. And
similarly, though indirectly, with the localization of the
great appended glands (Prin. of Bioln § 298 — 9).
In the social organism localization of the various indus*

483 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

tries which jointly sustain the whole, is determined in an
analogous manner. Primarily, the relations to different parts
of the organic and inorganic environments, usually not
alike over the whole area the society covers, initiate differ-
ences in the occupations carried oil And, secondarily, the
nearness to districts which have had their industries thus
fixed, fixes the positions of other industries which espe-
cially require their products. The first of these
localizations is traceable even among the semi-civilized.
Jackson .describes some of the Fiji Islands as famous for
wooden implements, others for mats and baskets, others for
pots and ^pigments — unlikenesses between the natural pro-
ducts of the. islands being the causes ; as also in Samoa, where
Turner says net-making is "confined principally to the
inland villages," and ascribes this to " proximity to the raw
material/9 The slightly-advanced societies of Africa show
us kindred differentiations, having kindred origins. In
Loango, " the sea-coasts are frequented by regular professed
fishermen/1 and there are also men who live near the sea
and make salt by "evaporating sea-water over a fire."
Here local facilities manifestly fix these occupations ;
as they doubtless do in that Ashantee town which is
devoted .to pottery. The extinct societies of America had
more numerous such instancea Lorenzana says — " An exten-
sive commerce is carried on in this salt [saltpetre] by the
Mexicans »of Yxtapaluca and Txtapalapa, which mean the
places where -salt, or Yxtatl, is gathered ; " and when we read
in Ciavigero of the potters of Cholula, the stone-cutters of
Tenajocan, the fishers of Cuitlahuac, and the florists of
Xochimilco, we cannot doubt that these several businesses
grew up in places which respectively furnished natural ad-
vantages for carrying them on. So of the Ancient
Peruvians we are told that "the shoes were made in the
provinces where aloes were most abundant, for they were
made of the leaves of a tree called maguey. The arms also
were supplied by the provinces where the materials for

THE SUSTAINING SYSTEM. 489

making them were most abundant" By showing us the
generality of the law, these instances give point to the
evidence around us. Familiarity must not make us over-
look the meaning of the facts that the population fringing
our shores is, by virtue of its position, led into occupations
directly or indirectly maritime — fishing, sailing, ship-
building— while certain coast-towns are, by physical circum-
stances, differentiated into places of import and export;
and that the inland population, mostly raising this or that
kind of food as soil and climate determine, has its
energies otherwise turned by proximity to the raw material,
here to quarrying stone or slate, here to brick-making,
and in other places to raising minerals. Then,

as above implied, there result the secondary localizations
favoured by these. Where not drawn by natural advantages
in the way of water-power, manufactures in general cluster in
or around regions where abundance of coal makes steam-
power cheap. And if two materials are needed, the localiza-
tion is determined by them jointly ; as with the nail-making
industry at Stourbridge, where both iron and coal are close
at hand ; as in Birmingham, with its multifarious hardwares,
which is similarly adjacent to the sources of these two chief
raw materials ; as in Manchester, which lies near the chief
cotton port and on a coal region; as in Sheffield, which,
besides the five streams yielding its water-power, and its
adjacency to supplies of iron, coal, and charcoal, has at hand
" the best grit in the world for grindstones."

§ 242. This localization of organs devoted to the prepa-
ration of those matters which the organism, individual or
social, needs for sustentation, exhibits a further common
trait. Alimentary structures differentiate and develop in a
manner quite unlike that followed by regulating structures.

The common trait referred to is most visible where the
two kinds of aggregates respectively consisted at first of
similar segments, which gradually became consolidated.

490 THB INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

Among animals the annulose type best shows us this trans-
formation with all its concomitants. The segments, or
somites, as they are called, forming a low type of aquatic
worm, such as a Syllis, repeat one another's structures.
Each has its enlargement of the alimentary canal ; each its
contractile dilatation of the great blood-vessel; each its
portion of the double nervous cord, with ganglia when these
exist; each its branches from the nervous and vascular
trunks answering to those of its neighbours; each its
similarly answering set of muscles; each its pair of open-
ings through the body-wall ; and so on throughout, even to
the organs of. reproduction. Externally, too, they have like
locomotive appendages, like branchiae, and sometimes even
like pairs of eyes (Prin. of Biol. , § 205). But when we come
to the higher Annulom, such as Crustaceans and Insects,
the somites of which, much more integrated, are some of
them so completely fused that their divisions are no longer
traceable, we find that the alimentary organs have entirely
lost their original relations to the somites. In a moth or a
cockroach, the abdomen of which is still externally seg-
mented, these internal parts which carry on sustentation do
not, as in the annelid, repeat one another in each segment ;
but the crop, stomach, glands, intestines, severally extend
themselves through two, three, four, or more segments.
Meanwhile it is observable that the nervous centres carrying
on co-ordination, though now partially unlike in the succes-
sive segments, have not lost their original relations to the
segments. Though in a moth the anterior ganglia, con-
trolling the external activities, have become a good deal
displaced and integrated ; yet the ganglia of the abdominal
segments, now relatively small, remain in their localities.

With the industrial structures which arise in a large
society formed by permanent consolidation of small societies,
the like happens : they extend themselves without reference
to political divisions, great or little. We have around us a
sufficiency of illustrations. Just noting the partial differen-

THE SUSTAINING SYSTEM. 491

tiations of the agricultural system, here characterized by pre-
dominance of cereal produce, here by the raising of cattle, and
in mountainous parts by sheep-farming — differences which
have no reference to county-boundaries — we may note more
especially how the areas devoted to this or that manu-
facture, are wholly unrelated to the original limits of political
groups, and to whatever limits were politically established
afterwards. We have an iron-secreting district occupying
part of Worcestershire, part of Staffordshire, part of War-
wickshire. The cotton manufacture is not restricted to
Lancashire, but takes in a northern district of Derbyshire.
And in the coal and iron region round Newcastle and
Durham it is the same. So, too, of the smaller political
divisions and the smaller parts of our industrial structures.
A manufacturing town grows without regard to parish-
boundaries; which are, indeed, often traversed by the pre-
mises of single establishments. On a larger scale the like is
shown us by our great city. London overruns many parishes ;
and its increase is not checked by the division between
Middlesex and Surrey. Occasionally it is observable that
even national boundaries fail to prevent this consequence
of industrial localization: instance the fact named by
Hallam, that "the woollen manufacture spread from Flanders
along the banks of the Rhine, and into the northern pro*
vinces of France." Meanwhile the controlling structures,
however much they change their proportions, do not thus
lose their relations to the original segments. Tie regulating
agencies of our counties continue to represent what were
once independent governments. In the old English period
the county was an area ruled by a comes or earl. According
to Bp. Stubbs, "the constitutional machinery of the shire thus
represents either the national organization of the several divi-
sions created by West Saxon conquest ; or that of the early
settlements which united in the Mercian kingdom as it
advanced westwards ; or the re-arrangement by the West
Saxon dynasty of the whole of England on the principles

492 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

already at work in its own shires." Similarly respecting the
eighty small Gaulish states which originally occupied th6 area
of France, M. Fustel de Coulanges says — " Ni les Romains ni
les Germains, ni la f&dalit^ ni la monarchie n'ont d&ruit
ces unites vivaces;" which up to the time of the Revolution
remained substantially, as "provinces" and "pays" the minor
local governments.

§ 243. This community of traits between the developments
of sustaining structures in an individual organism and in a
social organism, requires to be expressed apart from detail
before its full meaning can be seen.

What is the course of evolution in the digestive system of
an animal as most generally stated? That the entire ali-
mentary canal becomes adapted in structure and function to
the matters, animal or vegetal, brought in contact with its
interior ; and, further, that its several parts acquire fitnesses
for dealing with these matters at successive stages of their
preparation. That is, the foreign substances serving for
sustentation, on which its interior operates, determine the
general and special characters of that interior. And what,
stated in terms similarly general, is the course of evolution
in the industrial system of a society ? That as a whole it
takes on activities and correlative structures, determined by
the minerals, animals, and vegetals, with which its workers
are in contact; and that industrial specializations in parts
of its population, are determined by differences, organic or
inorganic, in the local products those parts have to deal with.

The truth that while the material environment, yielding
in various degrees and with various advantages consumable
things, thus determines the industrial differentiations, I have,
in passing, joined with a brief indication of the truth that
differentiations of the regulative or governmental structures
are not thus determined. The significance of this antithesis
remains to be pointed out when the evolution of these
governmental structures is traced.

CHAPTEE VIII.

THE DISTRIBUTING SYSTEM.

§ 244. In the last chapter but one, where the relations
between the three great systems of organs were described
it was pointed out that neither in an animal nor in a society
can development of the sustaining system or of the regulat-
ing system go on without concomitant development of the
distributing system. Transition from a partially-coherent
group of tribes which are severally self-sufficing, to a com-
pletely-coherent group in which industrial differences have
arisen, cannot take place without the rise of an agency for
transferring commodities ; any more than a cluster of similar
polypites can be changed into such a combination as we see
in Diphyes, without some modification facilitating conveyance
of nutriment from its feeding members to its swimming
members. A mediaeval society formed of slightly-subor-
dinated feudal states, each having besides its local lord its
several kinds of workers and traders within itself, just as
an annelid is formed of segments, each having besides its
ganglia its own appendages, branchiae, and simple alimentary
tract; can no more pass into an integrated society having
localised industries, without the development of roads and
commercial classes, than the annelid can evolve into a
crustacean or insect, characterized by many unlikenesses of
parts and actions, without the growth of a vascular system.

Here, then, we have to observe the implied parallelisms

494 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

between the distributing systems, individual and social, in
their successive stages.

§ 245. Protozoa of the rhizopod type are without channels
of communication from part to part. The close proximity of
the parts, the likeness of function among the parts, and their
great variability of relative position, make a distributing
system alike useless and impracticable. Even such animal
aggregates as Myxomycetes, which are of considerable extent
but are homogeneous, have no permeable lines for the dis-
tribution of nutriment. So is it with low societies.
Tribes that are small, migratory, and without division of
labour, by each of these characters negative the formation of
channels for intercourse. A group of a dozen or two, have
among themselves such small and indefinite communications
as scarcely to make tracks between huts ; when migratory,
as they mostly are, the beaten paths they begin forming at
each temporary abode are soon overgrown ; and even where
they are settled, if they are scattered and have no unlike-
nesses of occupations, the movements of individuals from
place to place are so trifling as to leave but faint traces.

Animal aggregates of which the parts, differently related
to conditions, assume different functions, must have channels
for transfer which develop as the aggregates grow. Through
the mere double-walled sac constituting a hydra, nutritive
matter absorbed by the inner layer, may reach the outer
layer without visible openings : passing, as we may assume,
along lines of least resistance which, once opened, are
continually followed and made more permeable. With
advance to larger aggregates having parts further from
the stomach, there comes first a branching stomach — a
gastric cavity that sends ramifications throughout the body.
Distribution of crude nutritive matters through such gastric
sinuses occurs in the Medusa and again in the PlanarUe.
But in those higher types characterized by a peri-visceral
sac containing the filtered nutriment, this, which is the

THE DISTRIBUTING SYSTEM. 495

rudiment of a vascular system, becomes the cavity out
of which there diverge channels ramifying through the
tissues — lacuna probably formed by the draughts of liquid
caused by local demands, and established by the repetitions
of such draughts. With societies, as with living

bodies, channels of communication are produced by the
movements which they afterwards facilitate: each transit
making subsequent transits easier. Sometimes lines opened
by animals are followed; as by the Nagas, who use the
tracks made through the jungle by wild beasts. Similarly
caused, the early paths of men are scarcely better than
these. The roads of the Bechuanas are " with difficulty to
be distinguished from those made by the quaghas and
antelopes." Throughout Eastern Africa " the most frequented
routes are foot-tracks like goat-walks." And in Abyssinia,
a high road " is only a track worn by use, and a little larger
than the sheep-paths, from the fact of more feet passing over
it" Even with such social growth as produces towns carrying
on much intercourse, there is at first nothing more than an
undesigned production of a less resistant channel by force of
much passing. Describing the road between the old and new
capitals of the Bechuanas, Burchell says — " This consists of a
number of footpaths wide enough only for a single person,
and running either parallel to each other, or crossing very
obliquely. I counted from twelve to about eighteen or
twenty of these paths, within the breadth of a few yards."

In animal organisms, ascending from the stage in which
there is a mere oozing of nutritive liquids through the most
permeable places in the tissues, to the stage in which occa-
sional currents move feebly through indefinite sinuses, we
come at length to the stage in which there are regular
motions of blood along vessels having definite walls. As
before pointed out, the formation of a true vascular system
begins in the central regions and spreads to the periphery.
At first there arises in the peri-visceral sac a short open-
mouthed tube, by the rhythmical contractions of which

1

496 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

agitation is kept up in the surrounding liquid, now entering
one end of this pulsating tube and now the other; and
gradually this primitive heart, elongating and giving off
smaller contractile vessels which ramify into the lacuna,
originates a vascular system. The like happens

with channels of communication through the social organism :
indefinite lacuna, as we see that they are all at the outset,
first acquire definite boundaries in the parts where there is
most traffic Of East African roads, which are commonly
like goat- walks, Burton says that " where fields and villages
abound they are closed with rough hedges, horizontal tree-
trunks, and even rude stockades, to prevent trespassing and
pilferage." So, too, in Dahomey, though the roads are
mostly footpaths, yet " the roads to the coast, except in a
few places, are good enough for wheeled vehicles," while
"the road, six or seven miles long, separating the two
capitals, may compare with the broadest in England." And
from the capital of Ashantee, described as having broad,
clean streets, there radiate towards distant parts of the
territory eight pathways, cut by successive kings through
the forest— doubtless replacing the primitive paths made
by traffic. Ignoring Eoman roads, which were not produced
by local evolution, we may trace in our own history this
centrifugal development of channels of communication. The
paving of the central parts of London did not begin till
after the eleventh century ; and, having got as far outwards
as Holborn at the beginning of the fifteenth century, it
spread into some of the suburbs during the sixteenth cen-
tury. In Henry VHIth's reign a way, when too deep and
miry to be traversed, was "merely abandoned and a new
track selected." Up to about 1750 the great north road from
London was a turnpike for the first 100 miles, and " north of
that point there was only a narrow causeway fit for pack-
horses, flanked with clay sloughs on either side." At the
same time, in North-England and Mid-England, the roads
were "still for the most part entirely unenclosed." Then

. THE DISTRIBUTING SYSTEM. 497

macadamization, an improvement belonging to our own cen-
tury, beginning with main lines of communication, gradually
extended itself first to all turnpike roads, then to parish
roads, and finally to private roads.

Further analogies may be indicated. With increased
pressure of traffic has come, in addition to the road, the
railway ; which, in place of a single channel for movement
in both directions, habitually has a double channel — up-line
and down-line — analogous to the double set of tubes
through which, in a superior animal, blood proceeds from
the centre and towards the centre. As in the finished
vascular system the great blood-vessels are the most direct,
the divergent secondary ones less direct, the branches
from these more crooked still, and the capillaries the
most tortuous of all; so we see that these chief lines
of transit through a society are the straightest, high roads
less straight, parish roads more devious, and so on down to
cart-tracks through fields. One more strange

parallel exists. In considerably-developed animals, as many
Jfollusca, though the vascular system is so far complete in its
central parts that the arteries have muscular coats, and are
lined with "pavement epithelium/' it remains incomplete
at its peripheral parts: the small blood-vessels terminate
in lacuna of the primitive kind. Similarly in the developed
distributing system of a society, while the main channels
are definitely bounded and have surfaces fitted for bearing
the wear and tear of great traffic, the divergent channels
carrying less traffic are less highly structured; and the
re-divergent ones, becoming less finished as they ramify,
everywhere end in lacuna — unfenced, unmetalled tracks
for cart, horse, or pedestrian, through field or wood, over
moor and mountain.

Notice must also be taken of the significant fact that
in proportion as organisms, individual and social, develop
largely the appliances for conflict with other organisms, these
channels of distribution arise not lor internal sustentation

2 K

498 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

only, but partly, and often mainly, for transferring materials
from the sustaining parts to the expending parts. As in
an animal with a large nervo-muscular system, arteries are
formed more for carrying blood from the viscera to the brain
and limbs than for carrying blood from one viscus to another ;
so in a kingdom with activities predominantly militant, the
chief roads are those made for purposes of offence and
defence. The consumption of men and supplies in war,
makes more necessary than all others the roads which take
them; and they are the first to assume definiteness. We
see this in the above-named royal roads in Ashantee ; again
in the ancient Peruvian royal roads for conveying troops;
and we are reminded of the relation in the empire of the
Romans, between finished roads and military activity at
remote points. The principle, however, remains the same:
be it in the commercial railways of England or the military
railways of Russia, the channels arise between places of
supply and places of demand, though the consumption may
be here in peace and there in war.

§ 246. When from the channels which carry, in the one
case blood-corpuscles and serum, and in the other case men
and commodities, we turn to the movements along them,
we meet with further analogies.

Devoid of canals for distribution, animals of low types
show us nothing but an extremely slow, as well as irregular,
diffusion through the tissues ; and so in primitive societies,
where nothing beyond a small amount of barter goes on, the
exchanged products are dispersed very gradually and in in-
definite ways : the movements are feeble, and do not con-
stitute anything like circulation. On ascending to
such a type as an ascidian, having a peri-visceral sac with
pulsating vessel in it, we see a distribution of nutriment
which cannot be called circulation, but which approaches to
it. The pulsations, setting up in the surrounding fluid such
waves as send feeble currents through the sinuses ancj

TOE DISTRIBUTING SYSTEM. 499

lacuna, presently undergo a reversal, causing movement in
the opposite direction. This alternation of waves, now
setting towards a certain part which thereupon becomes
congested, and presently setting away from it towards parts
which have been drained, is analogous to the first move-
ments of distribution in1 developing societies. We do not
begin with constant currents in the same directions; but
we begin with periodical currents, now directed to certain
spots and then away from them. That which, when
established, we know as a fair, is the commercial wave
in its first form. We find it in slightly-advanced societies.
The Sandwich Islanders met on the Wairuku river at stated
times to exchange* their products ; and the Fijians of different
islands, assembled occasionally at a fixed place for barter.
Of course, with the increase of population the streams of
people and commodities which set at intervals to and from
certain places; become more frequent The semi-civilized
African kingdoms show us stages. On the Lower Niger,
" every town has a market generally once in four days," and
at different parts of the river a large fair about once a
fortnight. In other cases, as at Sansanding, besides some
daily sale there was a great market once a week, to which
crowds from the surrounding country came.- And then in
the largest places, such as Timbuctoo, constant distribution
has replaced periodic distribution. So, too, in the Batta
territory, Sumatra, there ate assemblings for traffic every
fourth day ; and in Madagascar, besides the daily market in
the capital, there are markets at longer intervals in the
provincial towns. Ancient American societies displayed
this stage passing into a higher. Among the Chibchas,
along with constant traffic, the greatest traffic was at eight-
day intervals ; and Mexico, besides daily markets, had larger
markets every five days, which, in adjacent cities, were
at different dates: there being meanwhile merchants who,
Sahagun says, * go through the whole country . . . buying
in one district and selling in others" — so fore-shadowing

2 k 2

500 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOGIOLOGT.

a more developed system. Clearly these occasional assem-
blings and dispersings, shortening their intervals until
they reach a daily bringing of products by some and buying
by others, thus grow into a regular series of frequent waves,
transferring things from places of supply to places of de-
mand. Our own history shows how such slow periodic re-
pletions and depletions, now in this locality and now in that,
pass gradually into a rapid circulation. In early English
times the great fairs, annual and other, formed the chief
means of distribution, and remained important down to the
seventeenth century, when not only villages but even small
towns, devoid of shops, were irregularly supplied by hawkers
who had obtained their stocks at these gatherings. Along
with increased population, larger industrial centres, and
improved channels of communication local supply became
easier; and so, frequent markets more and more fulfilled
the purpose of infrequent fairs. Afterwards in chief places
and for chief commodities, markets themselves multiplied;
becoming in some cases daily. Finally came a constant
distribution such that of some foods there is to each town
an influx every morning ; and of milk even more than one in
the day. The transitions from times when the movements of
people and goods between places were private, slow, and
infrequent, to times when there began to run at intervals
of several days public vehicles moving at four miles an
hour, and then to times when these shortened their inter-
vals and increased their speed while their lines of movement
multiplied, ending in our own times when along each line of
rails there go at high speed a dozen waves daily that are
relatively vast; sufficiently show us how the social circu-
lation progresses from feeble, slow, irregular movements to
a rapid, regular, and powerful pulse.

§ 247. If from the channels of communication and the
movements along them, we turn to the circulating currents

TUX DISTRIBUTING SYSTEM. 501

themselves, and consider their natures and their relations to
the parts, we still meet with analogies.

Kelatively simple in a low animal, the nutritive fluid be*
comes in a high animal relatively complex — a heterogeneous
combination of general and special materials required by,
and produced by, the several parts. Similarly, the currents of
commodities, if they can be so called, which move from place
to place in a low society, are little varied in composition ;
but as we advance to high societies, the variety of compo-
nents in the currents continually increases. More-
over, the parallelism of composition holds in another way ;
for in both cases relative simplicity is joined with crudity,
whereas relative complexity in both cases Tesults from
elaboration. In low animal types the product of a rude
digestion is carried in an unprepared state through exten-
sions of the gastric cavity to the neighbourhoods of the
parts which need it; but in developed types the products
are refined before they are distributed — protein substances
of several kinds, fats, sugar, etc. And while the blood is
thus made heterogeneous by containing many matters fitted
for use, and while its heterogeneity is increased by the
swarms of white and red corpuscles which take part in
the processes of purification, etc, it is made more hetero-
geneous still by the inorganic constituents which aid mole-
cular change, as well as by the effete products of molecular
change on their ways to places of exit If, in like manner,
with the currents in a low society, we contrast the currents
in an advanced society, we see that here, too, the greater
heterogeneity is mainly caused by the many kinds of
manufactured articles fitted for consumption; and though
certain waste products of social life do not return into the
circulating currents, but are carried off by under-ground
channels, yet other waste products are carried off along thos6
ordinary channels of circulation which bring materials for
consumption. Next we have to note the special

502 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

actions which the local structures exert on the general
current of commodities. While in a living body the organs
severally take from the blood everywhere carried through
them, the materials needed for their sustentation, those which
are occupied in excretion and secretion also severally take
from the blood particular ingredients, which they either cast
out or compound. A salivary gland forms from the matters
it appropriates, a liquid which changes starch into sugar and
by doing this aids the subsequent preparation of food ; the
gastric follicles elaborate and pour out acids, etc., which
help to dissolve the contents of the stomach; the liver,
separating certain waste products from the blood, throws them
into the intestine as bile, along with that glycogen it forms
from other components which is to be re-absorbed; and
the units of these several organs live, grow, and multiply,
by carrying on their several businesses. So is it with
social organs. While all of them, .under restrictions to be
hereafter specified, absorb from the distributed supply of
commodities shares needful for their eustentation, such
of them as carry on manufactures, large or small, also
select from the heterogeneous streams of things that run
everywhere, the materials which they transform ; and after-
wards return into these streams the elaborated products.
Ignoring for the moment the familiar aspect of sale and
purchase, under which these transactions present themselves
to us, and contemplating simply the physical process, we
see that each industrial structure, allowing various materials
to pass through its streets untouched., takes out of the mixed
current those it is fitted to act upon ; and throws into the
circulating stock of things, the articles it has prepared for
general consumption*

The fact that competition is common to the two cases
must also be observed Though commonly thought of as a
phenomenon exclusively social, competition exists in a
living body — not so obviously between parts that carry on
the same function, as between parts that carry on different

THE DISTRIBUTING SYSTEM; 603

functions* The general stock of nutriment circulating
through an organism has to support the whole. Each organ
appropriates a portion of this general stock for repair and
growth. Whatever each takes diminishes by so much the
amount available for the rest All other organs therefore,
jointly and individually, compete for blood with each organ.
So that though the welfare of each is indirectly bound up
with that of the rest; yet, directly, each is antagonistic to
the rest Hence it happens that extreme cerebral action so
drafts away the blood as to stop digestion ; that, conversely,
the visceral demand for blood after a heavy meal often so
drains the brain as to cause sleep; and that extremely
violent exertion, carrying an excessive amount of blood to
the motor organs, may arrest digestion, or diminish thought
and feeling, or both. While these facts prove that there is v
competition, they also prove that the exalted function of
a part caused by demands made on it, determines the flow
of blood to it. Though, as we shall hereafter see, there is
in the higher organisms a kind of regulation which secures
a more prompt balancing of supplies and demands under
this competitive arrangement, yet, primarily, the balancing
results from the setting of blood towards parts in propor-
tion to their activities. Morbid growths, which not only
draw to themselves much blood but develop in themselves
vascular structures to distribute it, show us how local tissue-
formation (which under normal conditions measures the
waste of tissue in discharging function) is itself a cause of
increased supply of materials. Now we have daily

proof that in a society, not only individuals but classes,
local and general, severally appropriate from the total
stock of commodities as much as they can; and that their
several abilities to appropriate, normally depend on their
several states of activity. If less iron is wanted for export
or home consumption, furnaces are blown out, men are dis-
charged, and there flows towards the district a diminished
stream of the things required for nutrition : causing arrest

604 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

of growth and, if continued, even decay. When a cottoti
famine entails greater need for woollens, the increased
activity of the factories producing them, while it leads to
the drawing in of more raw material and sending out of
more manufactured goods, determines towards the cloth dis-
tricts augmented supplies of all kinds — men, money, con-
sumable commodities ; and there results enlargement of old
factories and building of new ones. Evidently this process
in each social organ, as in each individual organ, results from
the tendency of the units to absorb all they can from the
common stock of materials for sustentation ; and evidently
the resulting competition, not between units simply but
between organs, causes in a society, as in a living body, high
nutrition and growth of parts called into greatest activity
by the requirements of the rest.

§ 248. Of course, along with these likenesses there go
differences, due to the contrast named at the outset between
the concreteness of an individual organism and the discrete-
ness of a social organism. I may name, first, a difference
which accompanies the likeness last dwelt upon.

If the persons forming a body-politic were mostly fixed
in their positions, as are the units forming an individual
body, the feeding of them would have to be similarly effected.
Their respective shares of nutriment, not simply brought to
their neighbourhood, would have to be taken home to them.
A process such as that by which certain kinds of food are
daily carried round to houses by a class of locomotive units,
would be the universal process. But as members of the
body politic, though having stationary habitations and work-
ing places, are themselves locomotive, it results that the
process of distribution is effected partly in this way and
partly by their own agency. Further, there results

from the same general cause, a difference between the ways in
which motion is given to the circulating currents in the two
cases. Physical cohesion of the parts in an individual living

THE DISTRIBUTING SYSTEM. 605

body, makes possible the propulsion of the nutritive liquid
by a contractile organ ; but lacking this physical cohesion,
and lacking too the required metamorphosis of units, the
body-politic cannot have its currents of commodities thus
moved: though remotely produced by other forces, their
motion has to be proximately produced by forces within the
currents themselves.

After recognizing these unlikenesses, however, we see that
they do but qualify the essential likenesses. In both cases
so long as there is little or no differentiation of parts there
is little or no need for channels of communication among the
parts; and even a differentiation, when such only that the
unlike parts remain in close contact, does not demand appli-
ances for transfer. But when the division of labour, physio-
logical or sociological, has so far progressed that parts at
some distance from one another co-operate, the growth of
channels of distribution, with agents effecting distribution,
becomes necessary; and the development of the distri-
buting system has to keep pace with the other develop-
ments. A like necessity implies a like parallelism
between the progressing circulations in the two cases.
Feeble activities, small amounts of exchange, obstacles to
transfer, unite in preventing at first anything more than
very slow and irregular repletions and depletions, now at
one place now at another; but with multiplication of parts
increasingly specialized in their functions, increasingly
efficient therefore, and combining to produce an increased
amount of general life, there goes an increased need for large
distributions in constant directions. Irregular, weak, and
slow movements at long intervals, are changed into a
regular rapid rhythm by strong and unceasing local
demands. Yet more. With the advance of the
aggregate, individual or social, to a greater heterogeneity,
there goes advancing heterogeneity in the circulating cur-
rents ; which at first containing few crude matters, contain
at last many prepared matters. In both cases, too, structures

506 THiS INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

which elaborate the requisites for sustentation, stand to
these currents in like relations — take from them the raw
materials on which they have to operate, and directly or
indirectly deliver into them again the products ; and in both
cases these structures, competing with one another for their
shares of the circulating stock of consumable matters, are
enabled to appropriate, to repair themselves, and to grow, in
proportion to their performances of functions.

Stated most generally, the truth we have to carry with us
is that the distributing system in the social organism, as in
the individual organism, has its development determined by
the necessities of transfer among inter-dependent parts.
Lying between the two original systems, which carry on
respectively the outer dealings with surrounding existences,
and the inner dealings with materials required for sustenta-
tion, its structure becomes adapted to the requirements of
this carrying function between the two great systems as
wholes, and between the sub-divisions of each.

CHAPTER IX

THE REGULATING BYSTEM.

§ 249. When observing how the great systems of organs,
individual and social, are originally marked off from one
another, we recognized the truth that the inner and outer
parts become respectively adapted to those functions which
their respective positions necessitate — the one having to
deal with environing actions and agents, the other having
to use internally-placed materials. We have seen how
the evolution of interior structures is determined by the
natures and distributions of these matters they are in contact
with. We have now to see how the evolution of the struc-
tures carrying on outer actions is determined by the charac-
ters of things existing around*

Stated in a -more ccmr.rate Conn, the gBuwial fact to be here
set forth is, that while the alimentary systems of animals and
the industrial systems of societies, are developed into fitness
for dealing with the substances, organic and inorganic, used
for sustentation, the regulating and expending systems
(nervo-motor in the one, and governmental-military in tho
other) are developed into fitness for dealing with surrouncV
ing organisms, individual or social — other animals to bo
caught or escaped from, hostile societies to be conquered or
resisted. In both cases that organization which fits the
aggregate for acting as a whole in conflict with other

508 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

aggregates, indirectly results from the carrying on of conflicts
with other aggregates.

§ 250. To be slow of speed is to be caught by an enemy ;
to be wanting in swiftness is to fail in catching prey : death
being in either case the result Sharp sight saves the herb-
ivorous animal from a distant carnivore ; and is an essential
aid to the eagle's successful swoop on a creature far below.
Obviously it is the same with quickness of hearing and
delicacy of scent; the same with all improvements of limbs
that increase the power, the agility, the accuracy of move-
ments ; the same with all appliances for Attack and defence
— claws, teeth, horns, etc. And equally true must it be that
each advance in that nervous system which, using the
information coming through the senses, excites and guides
these external organs, becomes established by giving an
advantage to its possessor in presence of prey, enemies, and
competitors. On glancing up from low types of animals
having but rudimentary eyes and small powers of motion,
to high types of animals having wide vision, considerable
intelligence, and great Activity, it becomes undeniable that
where loss of life is entailed on the first by these defects,
life is preserved in the last by these superiorities. The
implication, then, is that successive improvements of the
organs of sense and motion, and of the internal co-ordinating
apparatus which uses them, have indirectly resulted from
the antagonisms and competitions of organisms with one
another.

A parallel truth is disclosed on watching how there
evolves the regulating system of a political aggregate, and
how there are developed those appliances for offence and
defence put in action by it. Everywhere the wars between
societies originate governmental structures, and are causes
of all such improvements in those structures as increase
the efficiency of corporate action against environing societies.
Observe, first, the conditions under which there is an absence

. THE REGULATING SYSTEM. 509

of this agency farthering combination; and then observe
the conditions under which this agency begins to show
itself.

Where food is scarce, diffusion great, and co-operation
consequently hindered, there is no established chieftainship.
The Fuegians, the Cayaguas or Wood-Indians of South
America, the Jungle- Veddahs of Ceylon, the Bushmen of
South Africa, are instances. They do not form unions for
defence, and have no recognized authorities: personal pre-
dominance of a temporary kind, such as tends to arise in
every group, being the only approach to it. So of the Esqui-
maux, necessarily much scattered, Hearne says — " they live
in a state of perfect freedom ; no one apparently claiming the
superiority over, or acknowledging the least subordination to,
another :" joined with which fact stands the fact that they
do not know what war means. In like manner where
barrenness of territory negatives anything more than occa-
sional assemblings, as with the Ghippewayans, there is
nothing like chieftainship beyond the effect due to character ;
and this is very small. Elsewhere adequate con-

centration is negatived by the natures of the people. They
are too little social or too little subordinata It is thus with,
the Abors, a Hill-tribe of India, who, "as they themselves say,
are like tigers, two cannot dwell in one den," and who have
their houses " scattered singly or in groups of two and three.1'
It is thus, too, as before pointed out (§ 35), with the Mantras
of the Malay peninsula, who separate if they dispute. Here
both the diffusion and the disposition causing the diffusion,
check the evolution of a political head. But it is

not only in cases like these that governmental co-ordination is
absent. It is absent also among tribes which are settled and
considerably more advanced, provided they are not given
to war. Among such Papuans as the Arafuras and the Dal-
rymple Islanders, there are but nominal chiefs : the people
living." in such peace and brotherly love with one another"
that they need no control but the decisions of their elders

510 TUB INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

The Todas, too, wholly without military organization, and
described as peaceable, mild, friendly, have no political
headships. So again is it with the placable Bodo and
Dhimals; described as being honest, truthful, entirely free
Irom revenge, cruelty, and violence, and as having headmen
whose authorities are scarcely more than nominal To
which, as similarly significant, I may add that the Lepchas,
referred to by Sir J. Hooker as " amiable and obliging," are
said by Campbell to be * wonderfully honest," " singularly
forgiving of injuries," " making mutual amends and conces-
sions;" while at the same time "they are averse to soldiering,
and cannot be induced to enlist in our army," and are so
little subordinate that they fly to the jungle and live on
roots rather than submit to injustice.

Now observe how the headless state is changed and
political co-ordination initiated, Edwards says the Caribs
in time of peace admitted no supremacy; but, he adds,
"in war, experience had taught them that subordination was
as requisite as courage." So, too, describing the confedera-
tions of tribes among the Caribs, Humboldt compares them
with " those warlike hordes who see no advantage in the ties
of society but for common defence." Of the Creeks, whose
subordination to authority is but slight, Schoolcraft says " it
would be difficult, if not impossible, to impress on the
community at large the necessity of any social compact, that
should be binding upon it longer than common danger
threatened them." Again, Bon wick says — " Chieftains un-
doubtedly did exist among the Tasmanians, though they
were neither hereditary nor elective. They were, never-
theless, recognized, especially in time of war, as leaders of
the tribes. . . . After the cessation of hostilities they re-
tired ... to the quietude of every-day forest life." In
other cases we find a permanent change produced. Kotze-
bue says the Kamschadales "acknowledged no chief;" while
another statement is that the principal authority was that
of "the old men, or those who were remarkable for their

THE REGULATING SYSTEM. SIX

bravery." And then it is remarked that these statements refer
to the time before the Russian conquest — before there had
been combined opposition to an enemy. This

development of simple headship in a tribe by conflict with
other tribes, we find advancing into compound headship along
with larger antagonisms x>f race with race. Of the Pata-
gonians Falkner tells us that though the tribes "are at
continual variance among themselves, yet they often join
together against the Spaniards." It was the same with the
North American Indians, The confederacy of the six nations,
which cohered under a settled system of co-operation, resulted
from a war with the English, Stages in the genesis of a
compound controlling agency by conflict with other societies
are shown us by the Polynesians. In Samoa eight or ten
village-communities, which are in other respects independent,

" unite by common consent, and form a district, or state, for mutual pro-
tection. . . . When war is threatened by another district, no single
village can act alone; . • . Some of these districts or states have
their king ; others cannot agree on the choice of one ; . . . there is
no such thing as a king, or even a district, whose power extends all
over the group." Yet in case of war, they sometimes combine in twos or
threes.

Early histories of the civilized similarly show us how union
of smaller social aggregates for offensive or defensive pur-
poses, necessitating co-ordination of their actions, tends to
initiate a central co-ordinating agency. Instance the Hebrew
monarchy: the previously-separate tribes of Israelites be-
came a nation subordinate to Saul and David, during
wars with the Moabites, Ammonites, Edomites and Phi-
listines. Instance the case of the Greeks: the growth of
the Athenian hegemony into mastership, and the organiza-
tion, political and naval, which accompanied it, was a con-
comitant of the continued activity of the confederacy against
external enemies. Instance in later times the development
of governments among Teutonic peoples. At the begin-
ning of the Christian era there were only chieftainships of
separate tribes ; and, during wars, temporary greater chief-

512 THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY.

tainships of allied forces. Between the first and the fifth
centuries the federations made to resist or invade the
Soman empire did not evolve permanent heads; but in
the fifth century the prolonged military activities of these
federations ended in transforming these military leaders
into kings over consolidated states.

As this differentiation by which there arises first a tem-
porary and then a permanent military head, who passes
insensibly into a political head, is initiated by conflict with
adjacent societies, it naturally happens that his political
power increases as military activity continues. Everywhere,
providing extreme diffusion does not prevent, we find this
connexion between predatory activity and submission to
despotic rule. Asia shows it in the Kirghiz tribes, who
are slave-hunters and robbers, and of whose manaps, once
elective but now hereditary, the Michells say — "The word
Manap literally means a tyrant, in the ancient Greek sense.
It was at first the proper name of an elder distinguished for
his cruelty and unrelenting spirit; from him the appella-
tion became general to all Kirghiz rulers." Africa shows it
in the cannibal Niam-niams, whose king is unlimited lord
of persons and things ; or again in the sanguinary Dahomans
with their Amazon army, and in the warlike Ashantees,
all trained to arms: both of them under governments so
absolute that the highest officials are slaves to the king.
Polynesia shows it in the ferocious Fijians, whose tribes are
ever fighting with one another, and among whom loyalty
to absolute rulers is the extremest imaginable — even so ex-
treme that people of a slave district " said it was their duty
to become food and sacrifices for the chiefs." This

relation between the degree of power in the political head
and the degree of militancy, has, indeed, been made familiar
to- us in the histories of ancient and modern civilized races.
The connexion is implied in the Assyrian inscriptions as
well as in the frescoes and papyri of Egypt The case of
Fausanias and other such cases, were regarded by the Spar-

THE REGULATING SYSTEM. 513

tafiB themselves as showing the tendency of generals to
become despots — as showing, that is, the tendency of active
operations against adjacent societies to generate centralized
political power. How the imperativeness fostered by con-
tinuous command of armies thus passes into political im-
perativeness, has been again and again shown us in later
histories.

Here, then, the induction we have to oarry with us is that
as in the individual organism that nervo-muscular apparatus
which carries on conflict with environing organisms, begins
with, and is developed by, that conflict; so the govern-
mental-military organization of a society, ia initiated by,
and evolves along with, the warfare between societies. Or,
to speak more strictly, there is thus evolved that part of its
governmental organization which conduces to efficient co-
operation against other societies..

§ 251. The development of the regulating systenvmay now
be dealt with. Let us first trace the governmental agency
through its stages of complication..

In small and little-differentiated aggregates, individual and
social, the structure which co-ordinates does not become com-
plex : neither the need for it nor the materials for. forming
and supporting it, exist But complexity begins ia com-
pound aggregates. In either case its commencement is seen
in the rise of a superior co-ordinating centre exercising
control over inferior centres. Among animals the

Annulom illustrate this most clearly. In an annelid the like
nervous structures of the like successive segments, are but
little subordinated to any chief ganglion or group of ganglia.
But along with. that evolution which, integrating and dif-
ferentiating the segments, produces a higher annulose
animal, there arise at the end which moves foremost, more
developed senses and appendages for action, as well as a
cluster of ganglia connected with them ; and along with
formation of this goes an increasing control exercised by it

2 L

514 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

over the ganglia of the posterior segments. Not very strongly
marked in such little-integrated types as centipedes, a
nervous centralization of this kind becomes great in such
integrated types as the higher crustaceans and the arach-
nida. So is it in the progress from compound
social aggregates that are loosely coherent to those that
are consolidated. Manifestly during those early stages
in which the chief of a conquering tribe succeeds only
in making the chiefs of adjacent tribes tributary while
he lives, the • political centralization is but slight ; and
hence, as in cases before referred to in Africa and else-
where, the powers of the local centres re-assert themselves
when they can throw off their temporary subordination.
Many races which have got beyond the stage of sepa-
rate simple tribes, show us, along with various degrees of
cohesion, various stages in the subjection of local governing
centres to a general governing centre. When first visited,
the Sandwich Islanders had a king with turbulent chiefs,
formerly independent; and in Tahiti there was similarly a
monarch with secondary rulers but little subordinate. So was
it with the New Zealanders ; and so was it with the Malagasy
until a century since. The nature of the political organiza-
tion during such stages, is shown us by the relative degrees
of power which the general and special centres exercise over
the people of each division. Thus of the Tahitians we read
that the power of the chief was supreme in his own district,
and greater than that of the king over the whole. lichten-
stein tells us of the Koossas that "they are all vassals of
the king, chiefs, as well as those under them ; but the sub-
jects are generally so blindly attached to their chiefs, that
they will follow them against the king." ." Scarcely would
the slave of an Ashantee chief," says Craickshank, "obey
the mandate of his king, without the special concurrence of
his immediate master." And concerning the three grades
of chiefs among the Araucanians, Thompson says of those
who rule the smallest divisions that " their authority is less

TIIE REGULATING SYSTEM. 615

precarious* than that of the higher officers. These few
instances, which might readily be multiplied, remind us of
the relations between major and minor political centres in
feudal times; when there were long periods during which
the subjection of barons to kings was being established —
during which failures of cohesion and re-assertions of local
authority occurred— during which there was loyalty to the
district ruler greater than that to the general ruler.

And now let us note deliberately, what was before im-
plied, that this subordination of local governing centres
to a general governing centre, accompanies co-operation
of the components of the compound aggregate in its con-
flicts with other like aggregates. Between such superior
Annulosa as the winged insects and clawed crustaceans
above described as having centralized nervous systems, and
the inferior Annulosa composed of many similar segments
with feeble limbs, the contrast is not only in the absence
from these last of centralized nervous systems, but also
in the absence of offensive and defensive appliances of
efficient kinds. In the high types, nervous subordination of
the posterior segments to the anterior, has accompanied the
growth of those anterior appendages which preserve the
aggregate of segments in its dealings with prey and
enemies; and this centralization of the nervous struc-
ture has resulted from the co-operation of these external
organs. It is thus also with the political centraliza-

tions which become permanent. So long as the subordination
is established by internal conflict of the divisions with one
another, and hence involves antagonism among them, it
remains unstable; but it tends towards stability in pro-
portion as the regulating agents, major and minor, are
habituated to combined action against external enemies.
The recent changes in Germany have re-illustrated under
our eyes this political centralization by combination in war,
which was so abundantly illustrated in the Middle Ages by
the rise of monarchical governments over numerous fiefs.

2 L 2

516 THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY.

How this compound regulating agency for internal con-
trol, results from combined external actions of the com-
pound aggregate in war, we may understand on remember-
ing that at first the army and the nation are substantially
the same. As in each primitive tribe the men are all
warriors, so, during early stages of civilization the military
body is co-extensive with the adult male population ex-
cluding only the slaves — co-extensive with all that part of
the society which has political life. In fact the army is
the nation mobilized, and the nation the quiescent army.
Hence men who are local rulers while at hdme, and leaders of
their respective bands of dependents when fighting a common
foe under direction of a general leader, become minor
heads disciplined in subordination to the major head; and
as they carry more or less of this subordination home with
them, the military organization developed during war sur-
vives as the political organization during peace.

Chiefly, however, we have here to note that in the com-
pound regulating system evolved during the formation of a
compound social aggregate, what were originally independ-
ent local centres of regulation become dependent local
centres, serving as deputies under command of the general
centre; just as the local ganglia above described become
agents acting under direction of the cephalic ganglia.

§ 252. This formation of a compound regulating system
characterized by a dominant centre and subordinate centres,
is accompanied, in both individual organisms and social
organisms, by increasing size and complexity of the domi-
nant centre.

In an animal, along with development of senses to yield
information and limbs to be guided in conformity with it, so
that by their co-operation prey may be caught and enemies
escaped, there must arise one place to which the various
kinds of information are brought, and from which are issued
the adjusted motor impulses; and, in proportion as evolu-

THE KEGUIATING SYSTEM. 517

tion of the senses and limbs progresses, this centre which
utilizes increasingly-varied information and directs better-
combined movements, necessarily comes to have more numer-
ous unlike parts and a greater total mass. Ascending
through the annulose sub-kingdom, we find a growing aggre-
gation of optic, auditory, and other ganglia receiving stimuli,
together with the ganglia controlling the chief legs, claws,
eta And so in the vertebrate series, beginning in its lowest
member with an almost uniform cord formed of local centres
undirected by a brain, we rise finally to a cord appended to
an integrated cluster of minor centres through which are
issued the commands of certain supreme centres growing out
of them. In a society it similarly happens that the

political agency which gains predominance, is gradually
augmented and complicated by additional parts for addi-
tional functions. The chief of chiefs begins to require
helpers in carrying on control. He gathers round him some
who get information, some with whom he consults, some who
execute his commands. No longer a governing unit, he
becomes the nucleus in a cluster of governing units. Various
stages in this compounding, proceeding generally from
the temporary to the permanent, may be observed. In
the Sandwich Islands the king and governor have each a
number of chiefs who attend on them and execute their
orders. The Tahitian king had a prime minister, as well
as a few chiefs to give advice; and in Samoa, too, each
village chief has a sort of prime minister. Africa shows us
stages in this progress from simple personal government to
government through agents. Among the Beetjuans (a
Bechuana people) the king executes " his own sentence, even
when the criminal is condemned to death ;" and Liechtenstein
tells us of another group of Bechuanas (the Maatjaping) that,
his people being disorderly, the monarch " swung his tre-
mendous sjambok of rhinoceros leather, striking on all sides.,
till he fairly drove the whole multitude before him :" being
thereupon imitated by his courtiers.. And then of the

518 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

Bachapin government, belonging to this same race, we learn
that the duty of the chiefs brother " was to convey the chiefs
orders wherever the case demanded, and to see them put
in execution." Among the Koossas, governed by a king
and vassal chiefs, every chief has councillors, and "the
great council of the king is composed of the chiefs of
particular kraals." Again, the Zulu sovereign shares his
power with two soldiers of his choice, and these form the
supreme judges of the country. The appendages which add
to the size and complexity of the governing centre in the
larger African kingdoms are many and fully established.
In Dahomey, besides two premiers and various functionaries
surrounding the king, there are two judges, of whom one
or other is " almost constantly with the king, informing him
of every circumstance that passes;" and, according to
Burton, every official is provided with a second in command,
who is in reality a spy. Though the king joins in judging
causes, and though when his executioners bungle he himself
shows them how to cut off heads, yet he has agents around
him into whose hands these functions are gradually lapsing ;
as, in the compound nervous structures above described,
there are appended centres through which information is
communicated, and appended centres through which the
decisions pass into execution. How in civilized nations
analogous developments have taken place — how among our-
selves William the Conqueror made his "justiciar" supreme
administrator of law and finance, having under him a body
of Secretaries of whom the chief was called Chancellor ; • how
the justiciar became Prime Minister and his staff a supreme
court, employed alike on financial and judicial affairs and in
revision of laws; how this in course of time became special-
ized and complicated by appendages ; needs not to be shown
in detail. Always the central governing agency while being
enlarged, is made increasingly heterogeneous by the multi-
plication of parts having specialized functions. And
then, as in nervous evolution after a certain complication of

THE REGULATING SYSTEM. 519

the directive and executive centres is reached, there begin
to grow deliberative centres, which, at first unobtrusive,
eventually predominate ; so in political evolution, those as-
semblies which contemplate the remoter results of political
actions, beginning as small additions to the central governing
agency, outgrow the rest. It is manifest that these latest and
highest governing centres perform in the two cases analogous
functions. As in a man the cerebrum, while absorbed in the
guidance of conduct at large, mainly in reference to the future,
leaves the lower, simpler, older centres to direct the ordinary
movements and even the mechanical occupations; so the
deliberative assembly of a nation, not attending to those
routine actions in the body politic controlled by the various
administrative agencies, is occupied with general require-
ments and the balancing of many interests which do not
concern only the passing moment. It is to be observed, also,
that these high centres in the two cases, are neither the im-
mediate recipients of information nor the immediate issuers
of commands ; but receive from inferior agencies the facts
which guide their decisions, and through other inferior
agencies get those decisions carried into execution. The
cerebrum is not a centre of sensation or of motion ; but has
the function of using the information brought through the
sensory centres, for determining the actions to be excited by
the motor centres. And 'in like manner a developed legis-
lative body, though not incapable of getting impressions
directly from the facts, is habitually guided by impressions
indirectly gained through petitions, through the press,
through reports of committees and commissions, through
the heads of ministerial departments; and the judgments it
arrives at are executed not under its immediate direction but
under the immediate direction of subordinate centres,
ministerial, judicial, etc:

One further concomitant may be added. During evolu-
tion of the supreme regulating centres, individual and social,
the older parts become relatively automatic. A simple

520 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

ganglion with its afferent and efferent fibres, receives
stimuli and issues impulses unhelped and unchecked ;
hut when there gather round it ganglia through which
different kinds of impressions come to it, and others through
which go from it impulses causing different motions, it be-
comes dependent on these, and in part an agent for transform-
ing the sensory excitements of the first into the motor
discharges of the last. As the supplementary parts multiply,
and the impressions sent by them to the original centre, in-
creasing in number and variety, involve multiplied impulses
sent through the appended motor centres, this original
centre becomes more and more a channel through which,
in an increasingly-mechanical way, special stimuli lead to
appropriate actions. Take, for example, three stages in the
vertebrate animal. We have first an almost uniform spinal
cord, to the successive portions of which are joined the
sensory and motor nerves supplying the successive por-
tions of the body: the spinal cord is here the supreme
regulator. Then in the nervous system of vertebrates some-
what more advanced, the medulla oblongata and the sen-
sory ganglia at the anterior part of this spinal cord, taking
a relatively large share in receiving those guiding im-
pressions which lead to motor discharges from its posterior
part, tend to make this subordinate and its actions me-
chanical: the sensory ganglia have now become the chief
rulers. And when in the course of evolution the cerebrum
and cerebellum grow, the sensory ganglia with the co-ordi-
nating motor centre to which they were joined, lapse into
mere receivers of stimuli and conveyers of impulses : the
last-formed centres acquire supremacy, and those preceding
them are their servants. Thus is it with kings,

ministries, and legislative bodies. As the original political
head, acquiring larger functions, gathers agents around him
who bring data for decisions and undertake execution of
them, he falls more and more into the hands of these
agents — has his judgments in great degree made for him

THE REGULATING SYSTEM. 521

by informers and advisers, and his deputed acts modified
by executive officers : the ministry begins to rule through
the original ruler. At a later stage the evolution of legis-
lative bodies is followed by the subordination of ministries ;
who, holding their places by the support of majorities,
are substantially the agents executing the wills of those
majorities. And while the ministry is thus becoming less
deliberative and more executive, as the monarch did pre-
viously, the monarch is becoming more automatic: royal
functions are performed by commission ; royal speeches are
but nominally such ; royal assents are practically matters of
form. This general truth, which our own constitutional
history so well illustrates, was illustrated in another way
during the development of Athenian institutions, poli-
tical, judicial, and administrative: the older classes of
functionaries survived, but fell into subordinate positions,
performing duties of a comparatively routine kind.

§ 253. From the general structures of regulating systems,
and from the structures of their great centres of control, we
must now turn to the appliances through which control ia
exercised. For co-ordinating the actions of an aggregate,
individual or social, there must be not only a governing
centre, but there must also be media of communicatiou
through which this centre may affect the parts.

Ascending stages of animal organization carry us from
types in which this requirement is scarcely at all fulfilled,
to types in which it is fulfilled effectually. Aggregates
of very humble orders, as Sponges, Tkattassicollce, etc., with-
out co-ordinating centres of any kind, are also without means
of transferring impulses from part to part ; and there is no
co-operation of parts to meet an outer action. In Eydrozoa
and Adinozoa, not possessing visible centres of co-ordination*
slow adjustments result from the diffusion of molecular
changes from part to part through the body : contraction of
the whole creature presently follows rough handling of the

522 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

tentacles, while contact of the tentacles with nutritive matter
causes a gradual closing of them around it. Here by the
propagation of some influence among them, the parts are
made to co-operate for the general good, feebly and slug-
gishly. In Polyzoa, along with the rise of distinct nerve-
centres, there is a rise of distinct nerve-fibres, conveying
impulses rapidly along definite lines, instead of slowly
through the substance in general Hence comes a relatively
prompt co-operation of parts to deal with sudden external
actions. And as these internuncial lines multiply, becoming
at the same time well adjusted in their connexions, they
make possible those varied co-ordinations which developed
nervous centres direct. Analogous stages in social

evolution are sufficiently manifest Over a territory covered
by groups devoid of political organization, news of an inroad
spreads from person to person, taking long to diffuse over the
whole area; and the inability of the scattered mass to
co-operate, is involved as much by the absence of inter-
nuncial agencies as by the absence of regulating centres.
But along with such slight political co-ordination as union
for defence produces, there arise appliances for influencing
the actions of distant allies. Even the Fuegians light fires
to communicate intelligence. The Tasmanians, too, made
use of signal fires, as do also the Tannese ; and this method
of producing a vague co-ordination among the parts in
certain emergencies, is found among other uncivilized races.
As we advance, and as more definite combinations of more
varied kinds have to be eflected for offence and defence,
messengers are employed. Among the Fijians, for instance,
men are sent with news and commands, and use certain
mnemonic aids. The New Zealanders "occasionally con-
veyed information to distant tribes during war by marks
on gourds." In such comparatively advanced states as
those of Ancient America, this method of sending news
was greatly developed. The Mexicans had couriers who
at full speed ran six-mile stages, and so carried intelligence,

THE REGULATING 8YSTEM. 523

it is said, even 300 miles in a day ; and the Peruvians, besides'
their fire and smoke signals in time of rebellion, had runners
of the same kind So, too, was it with the Persians. Hero-
dotus writes : —

"Nothing mortal travels so fast as these Persian messengers. The
entire plan is a Persian invention ; and this is the method of it Along
the whole line of road there are men (they say) stationed with horses,"
and the message " is borne from hand to hand along the whole line,
like the light in the torch-race, which the Greeks celebrate to Vulcan."

Thus what is in its early stage a slow propagation of impulses
from unit to unit throughout a society, becomes, as we ad-
vance, a more rapid propagation along settled lines: so
making quick and definitely-adjusted combinations possible.
Moreover, we must note that this part of the regulating
system, like its other parts, is initiated by the necessities of
co-operation against alien societies. As in later times
among Highland clans, the fast runner, bearing the fiery
cross, carried a command to arm ; so, in early English times,
the messages were primarily those between rulers and their
agents, and habitually concerned military affairs. Save in
these cases (and even state-messengers could not move
swiftly along the bad roads of early days) the propagation
of intelligence through the body-politic was very slow.
The slowness continued down to comparatively late periods
Queen Elizabeth's death was not known in some parts
of Devon until after the Court had gone out of mourning ;
and the news of the appointment of Cromwell as Protector
took nineteen days to reach Bridgwater. Nor have we to
remark only the tardy spread of the influences required for
co-operation of parts. The smallness and uniformity of
these influences have also to be noted in contrast with their #

subsequent greatness and multiformity. Instead of the
courier bearing a single despatch, military or political,
from one ruling agent to another, at irregular intervals in
few places; there come eventually, through despatches of
multitudinous letters daily and several times a-day, in all

^

521 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

directions through every class, swift transits of impulses, no
less voluminous than varied, all instrumental to co-opera-
tion. Two other internuncial agencies of more
developed kinds are afterwards added. Out of the letter,
when it had become comparatively frequent among the
educated classes, there came the news-letter: at first a
partially-printed sheet issued on the occurrence of an im-
portant event, and having an unprinted space left for a
written letter. From this, dropping its blank part, and pass-
ing from the occasional into the periodic, came the newspaper.
And the newspaper has grown in size, in multitudinousness,
in variety, in frequency, until the feeble and slow waves of
intelligence at long and irregular intervals, have become
the powerful, regular, rapid waves by which, twice and thrice
daily, millions of people receive throughout the kingdom
stimulations and checks of all kinds, furthering quick and
balanced adjustments of conduct Finally there
arises a far swifter propagation of stimuli serving to co-
ordinate social actions, political, military, commercial, eta
Beginning with the semaphore-telegraph, which, reminding
us in principle of the signal-fires of savages, differed by its
ability to convey not single vague ideas only, but numerous,
complex, and distinct ideas, we end with the electric-telegraph,
immeasurably more rapid, through wliich go quite definite mes-
sages, infinite in variety and of every degree of complexity.
And in place of a few such semaphore-telegraphs, transmit-
ting, chiefly for governmental purposes, impulses in a few
directions, there has come a multiplicity of lines of instant
communication in all directions, subserving all purposes.
Moreover, by the agency of these latest internuncial struc-
tures, the social organism, though discrete, has acquired a
promptuess of co-ordination equal to, and indeed exceeding,
the promptness of co-ordination in concrete organisms. It
was before pointed out (§ 221) that social units, though
forming a discontinuous aggregate, achieve by language a
transmission of impulses which, in individual aggregates, is

THE REGULATING SYSTEM. 625

achieved by nerves. But now, utilizing the molecular con-
tinuity of wires, the impulses are conveyed throughout the
body-politic much faster than they would be were it a solid
living whole. Including times occupied by taking messages
to and from the offices in each place, any citizen in Edin-
burgh may give motion to any citizen in London, in less
than one-fourth of the time a nervous discharge would take
to pass from one to the other, were they joined by living
tissue. Nor should we omit the fact that parallelism

in the requirements, has caused something like parallelism in
the arrangements, of the internuncial lines. Out of great
social centres emerge many large clusters of wires, from
which, as they get further away, diverge at intervals minor
clusters, and these presently give off re-diverging clusters;
just as main bundles of nerves on their way towards the
periphery, from time to time emit lateral bundles, and these
a^ain others. Moreover, the distribution presents the analogy
that near chief centres these great clusters of internuncial
lines go side by side with the main channels of communica-
tion— railways and roads — but frequently part from these as
they ramify ; in the same way that in the central parts of a
vertebrate animal, nerve-trunks habitually accompany arteries,
while towards the periphery the proximity of nerves and
arteries is not maintained: the only constant association
being also similar in the two cases ; for the one teleg:*aph-
wire which accompanies the railway system throughout
every ramification, is the wire which checks and excites its
traffic, as the one nerve which everywhere accompanies an
artery, is the vaso-motor nerve regulating the circulation
in it Once more, it is a noteworthy fact that in

both cases insulation characterizes the internuncial lines.
Utterly unlike as are the molecular waves conveyed, it is
needful in both cases that they should be limited to the
channels provided. Though in the aerial telegraph-wii^es
insulation is otherwise effected, in under-ground wires it is
effected in a way analogous to that seen in nerve-fibres.

526 THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY.

Many wires united in a bundle are separated from one
another by sheaths of non-conducting substance; as the nerve-
fibres that run side by side in the same trunk, are separated
from one another by their respective medullary sheaths.

The general result, then, is that in societies, as in living
bodies, the increasing mutual dependence of parts, implying
an increasingly-efficient regulating system, therefore implies
not only developed regulating centres, but also means by
which the influences of such centres may be propagated.
And we see that as, under one of its aspects, organic evo-
lution shows us more and more efficient internuncial appli-
ances subserving regulation, so, too, does social evolution.

§ 254. There is one other remarkable and important
parallelism. In both kinds of organisms the regulating
system, during evolution, divides into two systems, to which
is finally added a third partially-independent system; and
the differentiations of these systems have common causes in
the two cases.

The general law of organization, abundantly illustrated
in foregoing chapters, is that distinct duties entail distinct
structures; that from the strongest functional contrasts
come the greatest structural differences; and that within
each of the leading systems of organs first divided from one
another in conformity with this principle, secondary divi-
sions arise in conformity with the same principle. The im-
plication is, then, that it in an organism, individual or
social, the function of regulation falls into two divisions
which are widely unlike the regulating apparatus will differ-
entiate into correspondingly-unlike parts, carrying on their
unlike functions in great measure independently. This we
shall find it does.

The fundamental division in a developed animal, we have
seen to be that between the outer set of organs which
deal with the environment and the inner set of organs
which carry on sustentation. For efficient mutual aid it

THE REGULATING SYSTEM. 527

is requisite, not only that the actions of these inner and
outer sets, considered as wholes, shall be co-ordinated;
but also that each set shall have the actions of its
several parts co-ordinated with one another. Prey can be
caught or enemies escaped, only if the bones and muscles
of each limb work together properly— -only if all the
limbs effectually co-operate — only if they jointly adjust
their motions to the tactual, visual, and auditory impres-
sions; and to combine these many actions of the various
sensory and motor agents, there must be a nervous system
that is large and complex in proportion as the actions
combined are powerful, multiplied, and involved. like in
principle, though much less elaborate, is the combination
required among the actions of the sustaining structures. Ii
the masticated food is not swallowed when thrust to the
entrance of the gullet, digestion cannot begin ; if when food
is in the stomach contractions, but no secretions, take place,
or if the pouring out of gastric juices is not accompanied
by due rhythmical movements, digestion is arrested ; if the
great appended glands send into the intestines not enough
of their respective products, or send them at wrong times,
or in wrong proportions, digestion is left imperfect ; and so
with the many minor simultaneous and successive pro-
cesses which go to makp up the general function. Hence
there must be some nervous structure which, by its inter-
nuncial excitations and inhibitions, shall maintain the co-
ordination. Now observe how widely unlike are
the two kinds of co-ordination to be effected. The external
doings must be quick in their changes. Swift motions,
sudden variations of direction,- instant stoppages, are need-
ful. Muscular contractions must be exactly adjusted to
preserve the balance, achieve the leap, evade the swoop.
Moreover, involved combinations are implied; for the
forces to be simultaneously dealt with are many and various.
Again, the involved combinations, changing from moment
to moment, rarely recur; because the circumstances are

1

528 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

rarely twice alike. And once more, not the needs of the
moment only, have to be met, but also the needs of a future
more or less distant Nothing of the kind holds with
the internal co-ordinations. The same series of processes
has to be gone through after eveiy meal — varying some-
what with the quantity of food, with its quality, and with
the degree to which it has been masticated. No quick,
special, and exact adaptations are required; but only a
general proportion and tolerable order among actions which
are not precise in their beginnings, amounts, or endings.
Hence for the sustaining organs there arises a regulating
apparatus of a strongly contrasted character, which event-
ually becomes substantially separate. The sympathetic sys-
tem of nerves, or " nervous system of organic life," whether
or not originally derived from the cerebro-spinal system,
is, in developed vertebrates, practically independent
Though perpetually influenced by the higher system which,
working the muscular structures, causes the chief expendi-
ture, and though in its turn influencing this higher system,
the two carry on their functions apart: they affect one
another chiefly by general demands and general checks. Only
over the heart and lungs, which are indispensable co-
operators with both the sustaining organs and the expending
organs, do we find that the superior and inferior nervous
systems exercise a divided control The heart, excited by
the cerebro-spinal system in proportion to the supply of
blood required for external action, is also excited by the
sympathetic when a meal has made a supply of blood need-
ful for digestion ; and the lungs which (because their expan-
sion has to be effected partly.by thoracic muscles belonging
to the outer system of organs) largely depend for their
movements on cerebro-spinal nerves, are nevertheless also
excited by the sympathetic when the alimentary organs are at
work. And here, as showing the tendency there is for all
these comparatively-constant vital processes to fall under a
nervous control unlike that which directs the ever-varying
outer processes, it may be remarked that such influences as

4
/

> TUG REGULATING SYSTEM. (529

the cerebro-spinal system exerts on the heart and lungs
differ greatly from its higher directive actions — are mainly
reflex and unconscious. Volition fails to modify the heart's
pulsations; and though an act of will may temporarily
increase or decrease respiration, yet the average respiratory
movements are not thus changeable, but during waking and
sleeping are automatically determined; To which

facts let me add that the broad contrast here illustrated in the
highest or vertebrate type, is illustrated also in the higher
members of the annulose type. Insects, too, have visceral
•nervous systems substantially distinguished from the nervous
systems which co-ordinate outer actions. And thus we are
Bhown that separation of the two functionally-contrasted
regulating systems in animals, is a concomitant of greater
evolution.

A parallel contrast of duties produces a parallel differen-
tiation of structures during the evolution of social organ-
isms. Single in low societies as in low animals, the regu-
lating system in high societies as in high animals becomes
divided into two systems; which, though they perpetually
affect one another, carry on their respective controls with
substantial independence. Observe the like causes for these
like effects. Success in conflicts with other socie-

ties implies quickness, combination, and special adjustments
to ever-varying circumstances. Information of an enemy's
movements must be swiftly conveyed ; forces must be rapidly
drafted to particular spots; supplies fit in kinds and quan-
tities must be provided; military manoeuvres must be
harmonized ; and to these ends there must be a centralized
agency thjit is instantly obeyed. Quite otherwise is it
with the structures carrying on sustentation. Though the
actions of these have to be somewhat varied upon occa-
sion, especially to meet war-demands, yet their general
actions are comparatively uniform. The-several kinds of food
raised have to meet a consumption which changes within
moderate limits only ; tor clothing the demands are tolerably

2 iX

530 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

constant, and alter in their proportions not suddenly but
'slowly; and so with commodities of less necessary kinds:
rapidity, speciality, and exactness, do not characterize
the required co-ordinations. Hence a place for another
kind of regulating system. Such a system evolves as fast
as the sustaining system itself evolves. Let us note its
progress. In early stages the occupations are

often such as to prevent division between the control
of defensive actions and the control of sustaining actions,
because the two are closely allied. Among the Mandans the
families joined in hunting, and divided the spoil equally:
showing us that the war with beasts carried on for joint
benefit, was so nearly allied to the war with men carried on
for joint benefit, that both remained public affairs. Similarly
with the Comanches, the guarding of a tribe's cattle is
carried on in the same manner as military guarding;
and since the community of individual interests in this
protection of cattle from enemies, is like the community of
interests in personal protection, unity in the two kinds of
government continues. Moreover in simple tribes which
are under rulers of any kinds, what authority exists is
unlimited in range, and includes industrial actions as well
as others. If there are merely wives for slaves, or if there
is a slave-class, the dominant individuals who carry on outer
attack and defence, also direct in person such labour as is
performed ; and where a chief having considerable power has
arisen, he not only leads in war but orders the daily acti-
vities during peace. The Gonda, the Bhils, the Kagas, the
Mishmis, the Kalmucks, and many other simple tribes, show
us this identity of the political and industrial governments.
A partial advance, leading to some distinction, does not sepa-
rate the two in a definite way. Thus among the Koolries the
rajah claims and regulates work, superintends village re-
movals, and apportions the land each family has to clear on
a new site ; among the Santals the head man partially con-
trols the people's labour ; and among the Khonds he acts as

THE REGULATING SYSTEM* 531

chief merchant Polynesia presents like facts. The New
Zealand chiefs superintend agricultural and building opera-
tions ; the Sandwich Islanders have a market, in which " the
price is regulated by the chiefs;" trade in Tonga also "is
evidently under [the chiefs] supervision;" and the Ka-
dayan chiefs " settle the price of rice." So again in Celebes,
the days for working in the plantations are decided by
the political agency, and the people go at beat of gong;
so again in East Africa, the times of sowing and har-
vest depend on the chiefs will, and among the Inland
Negroes the "market is arranged according to the direc-
tions of the chiefs;" so again in some parts of Ancient
America, as San Salvador, where the cazique directed the
plantings ; and so again in some parts of America at the
present time. Those who trade with the Munduruciis " have
first to distribute their wares . , . amongst the mil ©• chiefs,"
and then wait some months "for repayment in produce;"
and the Patagonians could not sell any of their arms to
Wilkes's party without asking the chiefs permission. In
other societies, and especially in those which are consider-
ably developed, we find this union of political and industrial
rule becoming modified: the agency, otherwise the same,
is doubled. Thus among the Sakarran Dyaks there is a
"trading .chief" in addition to two principal chiefs; among
the Dahomans there is a commercial chief in Whydah ; and
there are industrial chiefs in Fiji, where, in other respects,
social organization is considerably advanced. At a later
stage the commercial chief passes into the government
officer exercising stringent supervision. In Ancient Guate-
mala a State-functionary fixed the prices in the markets;
and in Mcx'co, agents of the State saw that lands did not
remain uncultivated. Facts of this kind introduce us to the
stages passed through by European societies. Up to
the 10th century each domain in France had its bond,
or only partially-free, workmen and artizans, directed by
the seigneur and paid in meals and goods; between the

2 M 2

G32 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

11 tli and 14th centuries the feudal superiors, ecclesiastical
or lay, regulated production and distribution to such
extent that industrial and commercial licences had to be pur-
chased from them ; in the subsequent monarchical stage, it
was a legal maxim that " the right to labour is a royal right,
which the prince may sell and subjects can buy ;" and
onwards to the time of the Revolution, the country
swarmed with officials who authorized occupations, dictated
processes, examined products: since which times State-
control has greatly diminished, and the adjustments of
in Justry to the nation's needs have been otherwise
effected. Still better does our own history show us this
progressive differentiation. In the Old English period the
heads of guilds were identical with the local political heads
— ealdormen, wick-, port-, or burgh-reeves ; and the guild
was itself in part a political body. Purchases and bargains
had to be made in presence of officials. Agricultural and
manufacturing processes were prescribed by law. Dictations
of kindred kinds, though decreasing, continued to late times.
Down to the 16th century there were metropolitan and local
councils, politically authorized, which determined prices,
iixed wages, etc. But during subsequent generations,
restrictions and bounties disappeared; usury laws were
abolished ; liberty of commercial combination increased.

And now if, with those early stages in which the rudi-
mentary industrial organization is ruled by the chief, and
with those intermediate stages in which, as it develops, it
gets a partially-separate political control, we contrast a late
stage like our own, characterized by an industrial organiza-
tion which has become predominant, we find that this has
evolved for itself a substantially-independent controL There
is now no fixing of prices by the State ; nor is there prescribing
of methods. Subject to but slight hindrances from a few
licences, citizens adopt what occupations they please; buy
and sell where they please. The amounts grown and manu-
factured, imported and exported, are unregulated by laws;

•' THE BEGULATING SYSTEM. S33

improvements are not enforced nor bad processes legisla-
tively interdicted; but men, carrying on their businesses
as they think best, are simply required by law to
fulfil their contracts and commanded not to aggress upon
their neighbours. Under what system, then, are their
industrial activities adjusted to the requirements? Under
an internuncial system through which the various indus-
trial structures receive from one another stimuli or checks
caused by rises or falls in the consumptions of their re-
spective products ; and through which they jointly receive
a stimulus when there is suddenly an extra consumption for
war -purposes. Markets in the chief towns, where bar-
gaining settles the prices of grain and cattle, of cottons
and woollens, of metals and coal, show dealers the varying
relations of supply and demand; and the reports of their
transactions, diffused by the press, prompt each locality
to increase or decrease of its special function. Moreover,
while the several districts have their activities thus partially
regulated by their local centres of business, the metropolis,
where all these districts are represented by houses and
agencies, has its central markets and its exchange, in which
is effected such an averaging of the demands of all
kinds, present and future, as keeps a due balance among the
activities of the several industries. That is to say, there has
arisen, in addition to the political regulating system, an
industrial regulating system which carries on its co-ordinat-
ing function independently — a separate plexus of connected
ganglia.

As above hinted, a third regulating system, partially
distinguishable from the others, arises in both cases. For
the prompt adjustment of functions to needs, supplies of the
required consumable matters must be rapidly drafted to the
places where activities are set up. If an organ in the indi-
vidual body or in the body-politic, suddenly called into
great action, could get materials for its nutrition or its
secretion, or both, only through the ordinary quiet flow of

£34 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

the distributing currents, its enhanced action would soon
flag. That it may continue responding to the increased
demand, there must be an extra influx of the materials used
in its actions — it must have credit in advance of function
discharged. In the individual organism this end

is achieved by the vaso-motor nervous system. The fibres
of this ramify everywhere along with the arteries, which they
enlarge or contract in conformity with stimuli sent along
them. The general law, as discovered by Ludwig and
Lov&n, is that when by the nerves of sensation there is sent
inwards that impression which accompanies the activity of
a part, there is reflected back to the part, along its vaso-
motor nerves, an influence by which its minute arteries are
suddenly dilated ; and at the same time, through the vaso*
motor nerves going to all inactive parts* there is sent an
influence which slightly constricts the arteries supplying
them: thus diminishing the flow of blood where it is not
wanted, that the flow may be increased where it is
wanted. In the social organism, or rather in such

a developed social organism as our own in modern times,
this kind of regulation is effected by the system of banks and
associated financial bodies which lend out capital When a
local industry, called into unusual activity by increased
consumption of its products, makes demands first of all on
local banks, these, in response to the impressions caused by
the rising activity conspicuous around them, open more
freely those channels for capital which they command ; and
presently, with further rise of prosperity, the impression
propagated to the financial centres in London produces an
extension of the local credit, so that there takes place a
dilatation of the in-flowing streams of men and commodities.
Wliile, at the same time, to meet this local need for capital,
various industries elsewhere, not thus excited, and therefore
not able to offer such good interest, get diminished supplies :
some constriction of the circulation through them takes
place. This third regulating system, observe, Yaso-

THE REGULATING 8TSTEM. 535

motor in the one case and monetary in the othef , is sub-
stantially independent. Evidence exists that there are local
vaso-motor centres possessing local control, as there are
local monetary centres; and though there seems to be in
each case a chief centre, difficult to distinguish amid the
other regulating structures with which it is entangled, yet
it is functionally separate. Though it may be bound up
with the chief regulating system by which outer actions
are controlled, it is not subject to that system. Volition
in the one case cannot alter these local supplies of blood ;
and legislation in the other, ceasing to perturb as it
once did the movements of capital, now leaves it almost
entirely alone: even the State, with the structures under
its direct control, standing to the financial corporations in
the position of a customer, just as the brain and limbs do to
the vaso-motor centres* Nor does this ruler of the circula*
tion form part of that second regulating system which
controls the organs carrying on sustentation, individual or
social. The viscera get blood only by permission of these
nerve-centres commanding their arteries, and if the outer
organs are greatly exerted, the supply is shut off from the
inner organs ; and similarly the industrial system, with that
centralized apparatus which balances its actions, cannot of
itself draft capital here or there, but does this indirectly only
through the impressions yielded by it to Lombard-street

§ 255. Thus the increasing mutual dependence of parts,
which both kinds of organisms display as they evolve, neces-
sitates a further series of remarkable parallelisms. Co-opera-
tion being in either case impossible without appliances by
which the co-operating parts shall have their actions adjusted,
it inevitably happens that in the body-politic, as in the living
body, there arises a regulating system ; and within itself this
differentiates as the sets of organs evolve.

The co-operation most urgent from the outset, is that
required for dealing with environing enemies and prey.

S3ff THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

Hence the first regulating centre, individual and social,
is initiated as a means to this co-operation ; and its develop*
ment progresses with the activity of this co-operation. As
compound aggregates are formed by integration of simple
ones, there arise in either case supreme regulating centres
and subordinate ones; and the supreme centres begin to
enlarge and complicate. While doubly-compound and trebly-
compound aggregates show us further developments in com-
plication and subordination, they show us, also, better inter-
nuncial appliances, ending in those which convey instant
information and instant command.

To this chief regulating system, controlling the organs
tvhich carry on outer actions, there is, in either case, added
during the progress of evolution, a regulating system for the
inner organs carrying on sustentation ; and this gradually
establishes itself as independent Naturally it conies later
than the other. Complete utilization of materials for sus-
tentation being less urgent, and implying co-ordination
relatively simple, has its controlling appliances less rapidly
developed than those which are concerned with the catching
of prey and the defence against enemies.

And then the third or distributing system, which, though
necessarily arising after the others, is indispensable to the
considerable development of them, eventually gets a regu-
lating apparatus peculiar to itself.

CHAPTER X.

SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS.

§ 256. A glance at the respective antecedents of indivi-
dual organisms and social organisms, shows why the last
Admit of no such definite classification as the first. Through
a thousand generations a species of plant or animal leads
substantially the same kind of life ; and its successive
members inherit the acquired adaptations. When changed
conditions cause divergences of forms once alike, the accu-
mulating differences arising in descendants only superficially
disguise the original identity — do not prevent the grouping
of the several species into a genus ; nor do wider diver-
gences that began earlier, prevent the grouping of genera
into orders and orders into classes. It is otherwise with
societies. Hordes of primitive men, dividing and sub-
dividing, do, indeed, show us successions of small social
aggregates leading like lives, inheriting such low structures
as had resulted, and repeating those structures. But higher
social aggregates propagate their respective types in much
less decided ways. Though colonies tend to grow like their
parent-societies, yet the parent-societies are so comparatively
plastic, and the influences of new habitats on the derived
societies are so great, that divergences of structure are
inevitable. In the absence of definite organizations estab-
lished during the similar lives of many societies descending

533 THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY,

one from another, there cannot be the precise distinctions
implied by complete classification.

Two cardinal kinds of differences there are, however, of
which we may avail ourselves for grouping societies in a
natural manner. Primarily we may arrange them accord-
ing to their degrees of composition, as simple, compound,
doubly-compound, trebly-compound ; and secondarily, though
in a less specific way, we may divide them into the pre-
dominantly militant and the predominantly industrial—
those in which the organization for offence and defence is
most largely developed, and those in which the sustaining
organization is most largely developed

§ 257. We have seen that social evolution begins with
small simple aggregates ; that it progresses by the clustering
of these into larger aggregates ; and that after being consoli-
dated, such clusters are united with others like themselves
into still larger aggregates. Our classification, then, must
begin with societies of the first or simplest order.

We cannot in all cases say with precision what constitutes
a simple society ; for, in common with products of evolution
generally, societies present transitional stages which negative
sharp divisions. As the multiplying members of a group
spread and diverge gradually, it is not always easy to decide
when the groups into which they fall become distinct Here,
inhabiting a barren region, the descendants of common
ancestors have to divide while yet the constituent families
are near akin ; and there, in a more fertile region, the group
may hold together until clusters of families remotely akin
are formed : clusters which, diffusing slowly, are held by a
common bond that slowly weakens. By and by comes the
complication arising from the presence of slaves not of the
same ancestry, or of an ancestry but distantly allied ; and
these, though they may not be political units, must be recog-
nized as units sociologically considered. Then there is the
kindred complication arising where an invading tribe be-

SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS,

539

comes a dominant class. Our only course is to regard as
a simple society, one which forms a single working whole
nnsubjected to any other, and of which the parts co-operate,
with or without a regulating centre, for certain public
ends. Here is a table, presenting with as much definiteness
as may be, the chief divisions and sub-divisions of such
simple societies.

f Nomadic: — (hunting) Puegians, some Australian?,
Wood-Veddahs, Bushmen, Ohepangs and Eusundas
of Nepal.

("Headless. -

3

CD

w

00

Semi-Mettled : — moat Esquimaux.

Settled :— Arafuras, Land Djaks of Upper Sarawak
River.

C Nomadic : — (hunting) some Australians, Tasmanians.

Siiabcwi? 1 8emi-*<ttkd:—9ome Caribs.

i

Settled:— some Uaupes of the upper Bio Negro.

r Nomadic: — (hunting) Andamanese, Abipones, Snakes,
Chippewajans, (pastosal) some Bedouins.

Vague ahd
Unstable -

H*ADSB4P.

Semi-eettled :i-tome Esquimaux, Chinooks, Chippewas
(at present), some Jkamschadales, Village Veddahs,
Bodo and Dhimals.

Stable
Headship. "

8eUled: — Guiana tribes, Handans, Coroados, JJew
Guinea people, Tannese, Yateans, Dyaks, Todas,
Hagas, Karens, Santals.

Nomadic :— •

Semi- settled : — some Caribs, Patagonians, New Calc«
doniana, Kaffiis.

^Settled*— Goaranis, Pueblos.

On contemplating these uncivilized societies which,
though alike as being uncompounded, differ in their sizes

540

TIIE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

and structures, certain generally-associated traits may be
noted. Of the groups without political organization, or
with but vague traces of it, the lowest are those small
wandering ones which live on the wild food sparsely distri-
buted in forests, over barren tracts, or along sea-shores.
Where small simple societies remain without chiefs though
settled, it is where circumstances allow them to be habitually
peaceful. Glancing down the table we find reason for infer-
ring that the changes from the hunting life to the pastoral,
and from the pastoral to the agricultural, favour increase of
population, the development of political organization, of
industrial organization, and of the arts ; though these causes
do not of themselves produce these results.

to
W

H
W

o
o

OQ

O

o

f Nomadic:— (pastoral) some Bedouins.

[^Settled:—

Unstable
Headship.

Nomadic: — (hunting) Dacotalis, (hunting and pastoral)
Comancbee, (pastoral) Kalmu* ki.

Semi-settled:— Ostyaks, Beluchis, Cookies, Bhils, Congo*
people (passing into doubly compound), Teutons
before 5tn century.

Settled ;— Chippewa* fin past times), Creeks, Mun-
drucus, Tupis, Khonds, some New Guinea people,
Sumatrans, Malagasy (till recently), Coast Negroes,
Inland Negroes, some Abyssinians, Homeric Greeks,
Kingdoms of the Heptarchy, Teutons in 5th century,
Fiefs of 10th century.

rNomadie:— (pastoral) Kirghiz.

Stable
*. Headship. *

Semi-eettled : — Bechuanas, Zulus.

Settled:— tTaupes, Fijians (when first visited), New
Zealanders, Sandwich Islanders (in Cook's time),
Javans, Hottentots, Dahomans, Ashantees, soma
Abyssinians, Ancient Yucatanese, New Granada
people, Honduras people, Chibchasr some town
Arabs.

SpCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. C41

The second table, given on the preceding page, contains
societies which have passed to a slight extent, or consider-
ably, or wholly, into a state in which the simple groups have
their respective chiefs under a supreme chief. The stability or
instability alleged of the headship in these cases, refers to the
headship of the composite group, and not to the headships of
the component groups. As might be expected, stability of this
compound headship becomes more marked as the original
unsettled state passes into the completely settled state : the
nomadic life obviously making it difficult to keep the heads
of groups subordinate to a general head. Though not in all
cases accompanied by considerable organization, this coales-
cence evidently conduces to organization. The completely-
settled compound societies are mostly characterized by divi-
sion into ranks, four, five, or six, clearly marked off ; by
established ecclesiastical arrangements ; by industrial struc-
tures that show advancing division of labour, general and
local ; by buildings of some permanence clustered into places
of some size ; and by improved appliances of life generally.

In the succeeding table are placed societies formed by
the re-compounding of these compound groups, or in wliich
many governments of the types tabulated above have become
subject to a still higher government. The first notable fact
is that these doubly-compound societies are all completely
settled. Along with their greater integration we see in
many cases, though not uniformly, a more elaborate and
stringent political organization. "Where complete stability
of political headship over these doubly-compound societies
has been established, there is mostly, too, a developed
ecclesiastical hierarchy. While becoming more complex by
division of labour, the industrial organization has in many
cases assumed a caste structure. To a greater or less extent,
custom has passed into positive law; and religious obser-
vances have grown definite, rigid, and complex. Towns and
roads have become general; and considerable progress in
knowledge and the arts has taken place.

1

642 THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY.

CO

8

O

OooiaioKAi, f tomi-tettUd.—
H"4MHIP- \&«W.— Samom*.

8

Ukbtablb
Headship.

Stablv
^ Headship. '

'Semi-eettled:—

Settled :— Tahitians, Tongans, Varans (occasionally),
Fijian* (since fire-arms), Malagasy (in recent
times), Athenian Confederacy, Spartan Confede-
racy, Teutonio Kingdoms from 6th to 9th cen-
turies, Greater Fiefs in France of the 13th
century.

Semi-eetlled re-
settled:— Iroquois, Araucanians, Sandwich Islanders
(since Cook's time). Ancient Vera Paz and Bogota
peoples, Guatemalans, Ancient Peruvians, Wah-
habees (Arab), Oman (Arab), Ancient Egyptian
Kingdom, England after the 10th century.

There remain to be added the great civilized nations
which need no tabular form, since they mostly fall under
one head — trebly compound. Ancient Mexico, the Assyrian
Empire, the Egyptian Empire, the Roman Empire, Great
Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Russia, may severally be
regarded as having reached this stage of composition, or
perhaps, in some cases, a still higher stage. Only in respect
of the stabilities of their governments may they possibly
require classing apart — not their political stabilities in the
ordinary sense, but their stabilities in the sense of con-
tinuing to be the supreme centres of these great aggregates.
So defining this trait, the ancient trebly-compound societies
have mostly to be classed as unstable ; and of the modern,
the Kingdom of Italy and the German Empire have to be
tested by time.

As already indicated, this classification must not be taken
as more than an approximation to the truth. In some cases
the data furnished by travellers and others are inadequate ;
in some cases their accounts are conflicting; in some
cases the composition is so far transitional that it is diffi-

SOCIAL TTPE8 AND CONSTITUTIONS, H4S

cult to say under which of two heads it should come. Here
the gens or the phratry may be distinguished as a local
community ; and here these groups of near or remote kins-
men are so mingled with other such groups as practically to
form parts of one community. Evidently the like combina-
tion of several such communities, passing through stages of
increasing cohesion, leaves it sometimes doubtful whether
they are to be regarded as many or as one. And when, as
with the larger social aggregates, there have been successive
conquests, resulting unions, subsequent dissolutions, and re-
unions otherwise composed, the original lines of structure
become so confused or lost that it is difficult to class the
ultimate product.

But there emerge certain generalizations which we may
safely accept The stages of compounding and re-com-
pounding have to be passed through in succession. No
tribe becomes a nation by simple growth; and no great so-
ciety is formed by the direct union of the smallest societies.
Above the simple group the first stage is a compound group
inconsiderable in size. The mutual dependence of parts
which constitutes it a working whole, cannot exist without
some development of lines of intercourse and appliances for
combined action ; and this must be achieved over a narrow
area before it can be achieved over a wide one. When a
compound society has been consolidated by the co-operation
of its component groups in war under a single head — when
it has simultaneously differentiated somewhat its social
ranks and industries, and proportionately developed its arts,
which all of them conduce in some way to better co-opera-
tion, the compound society becomes practically a single
one. Other societies of the same order, each having
similarly reached a stage of organization alike required and
made possible by this co-ordination of actions throughout
a larger mass, now form bodies from which, by conquest
or by federation in war, may be formed societies of the
doubly-compound type. The consolidation of these has

544 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

again an accompanying advance of organization distinctive
of it — an organization for which it affords the scope and
which makes it practicable — an organization having a higher
complexity in its regulative, distributive, and industrial
systems. And at later stages, by kindred steps, arise still
larger aggregates having still more complex structures.
In this order has social evolution gone on, and only in this
order does it appear to be pos3ible. Whatever imperfec-
tions and incongruities the above classification has, do not
hide these general facts — that there are societies of these
different grades of composition ; that those of the same
grade have general resemblances in their structures; and
that they arise in the order shown,

§ 258. We pass now to the classification based on unlike-
nosses between the kinds of social activity which predomi-
nate, and on the resulting unlikenesses of organization. The
two social types thus essentially contrasted are the militant
and the industrial

It is doubtless true that no definite separation of
these can be made. Excluding a few simple groups such
as the Esquimaux, inhabiting places where they are safe
from invasion, all societies, simple and compound, are occa-
sionally or habitually in antagonism with other societies;
and, as we have seen, tend to evolve structures for carrying
on offensive and defensive actions. At the same time sus«
tentation is necessary ; and there is always an organization,
slight or decided, for achieving it. But while the
two systems in social organisms, as in individual organ-
isms, co-exist in all but the rudimentary forms, they vary
immensely in the ratios they bear to one another. In some
cases the structures carrying on external actions are largely
developed ; the sustaining system exists solely for their
benefit; and the activities are militant. In other cases
there is predominance of the structures carrying on cus-
tentation ; offensive and defensive structures are main-
tained only to protect them; and the activities are indus-

SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 545

trial At the one extreme we have those warlike tribes
which, subsisting mainly by the chase, make the appliances
for dealing with enemies serve also for procuring food,
and have sustaining systems represented only by their
women, who are their slave-olasses ; while, at the other
extreme we have the type, as yet only partially evolved,
in which the agricultural, manufacturings and commercial
organizations form the chief part of the society,, and, in the
absence of external enemies, the appliances for offence and
defence are either rudimentary or absent. Transitional as
are nearly all the societies we have to study, we- may yet
clearly distinguish the constitutional traits of these opposite
types, characterized by predominance of the outer and inner
systems respectively.

Having glanced at the two* thus placed, in contrast, it will
be most convenient to* contemplate each, by itself*,

§ 259. As before pointed out, the militant type is one
in which the army is the nation mobilized while the nation
is the quiescent army, and which, therefore, acquires a
structure common to army and nation. We shall most
clearly understand its nature by observing in detail this
parallelism between the military organization and. the social
organization at large.

Already we have had ample proof that centralized control
is the primary trait acquired by every body of fighting
men, be it horde of savages,, band of brigands, «r mass of
soldiers. And this centralized control, necessitated during
war, characterizes the government during peace. Among
the uncivilized there is a marked tendency for the military
chief to become also the political head (the medicine man
being his only competitor) ; and in a conquering race of
savages his political headship becomes fixed. In semi-
civilized societies the conquering commander and the despotic
king are the same ; and they remain the same in civilized
societies down to late times. The connexion is well shown

2 N

i

546 THK INDUCTIONS OP SOCIOLOGY.

where in the same race, along with a contrast between the
habitual activities we find contrasted forms of government
Thus the powers of the patriarchal chiefs of Kaffir tribes are
not great; but the Zulus, who have become a conquering
division of the Kaffirs, are under an absolute monarch. Of
advanced savages the Fijians may be named as well showing
this relation between habitual war and despotic rule : the per-
sons and property of subjects are entirely at the king's or
chiefs disposal We have seen that it is the same in the
warlike African states, Dahomey and Ashantee. The ancient
Mexicans, again, whose highest profession was that of aims,
and whose eligible prince became king only by feats in war,
had an autocratic government, which, according to Clavigero,
became more stringent as the territory was enlarged
by conquest. Similarly, the unmitigated despotism
under which the Peruvians lived, had been established
during the spread of the Ynca conquests. And that race
is not the cause, we are shown by this recurrence in an-
cient America of a relation so familiar in ancient states
of the Old World. The absoluteness of a com-

mander-in-chief goes along with absolute control exercised
by his generals over their subordinates, and by their sub-
ordinates over the men under them : all are slaves to those
above and despots to those below. This structure repeats
itself in the accompanying social arrangements. There are
precise gradations of rank in the community and complete
submission of each rank to the ranks above it We see
this in the society already instanced as showing among
advanced savages the development of the militant type.
In Fiji six classes are enumerated, from king down to slaves,
as sharply marked off. Similarly in Madagascar, where
despotism has been in late times established by war, there
axe several grades and castes. Among the Dahomans,
given in so great a degree to bloodshed of all kinds,
"the army, or, what is nearly synonymous, the nation/*
says Burton, "is divided, both male and female, into two

SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 547

wings;" and then, of the various ranks enumerated, all are
characterized as legally slaves of the king. In Ashantee,
too, where his officers are required to die when the king
dies, we have a kindred condition. Of old, among the ag-
gressive Persians, grades were strongly marked. So was it in
warlike ancient Mexico: besides three classes of nobility,
and besides the mercantile classes, there were three agricul-
tural classes down to the serfs — all in precise subordination.
In Peru, also, below the Ynca there were grades of nobility
— lords over lords. Moreover, in each town the inhabi-
tants were registered in decades under a decurion, five
of these under a superior, two such under a higher one,
five of these centurions under a head, two of these
heads under one who thus ruled a thousand men, and
for every ten thousand there was a governor of Ynca race :
the political rule being thus completely regimental.
Till lately, another illustration was furnished by Japan. That
there were kindred, if less elaborate, structures in ancient
militant states of the Old World, scarcely needs saying;
and that like structures were repeated in mediaeval times,
when a large nation like France had under the monarch
several grades of feudal lords, vassals to those above and
suzerains to those below, with serfs under the lowest, again
shows us that everywhere the militant type has sharply-
marked social gradations as it has sharply-marked military
gradations. Along with this natural government

there goes a like form of supernatural government. I do
not mean merely that in the ideal other-worlds of mili-
tant societies, the ranks and powers are conceived as like
those of the real world around, though this also is to be
noted ; but I refer to the militant character of the religion.
Ever in antagonism with other societies, the life is a life of
enmity and the religion a religion of enmity. The duty of
blood-revenge, most sacred of all with the savage, continues
to be the dominant duty as the militant type of society
evolves. The chief, baulked of his vengeance, dies enjoining

2 N 2

H

548 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

bis successors to avenge him ; his ghost is propitiated by
fulfilling his commands ; the slaying of his enemies becomes
the highest action; trophies are brought to his grave in
token of fulfilment ; and, as tradition grows, he becomes the
god worshipped with bloody sacrifices. Everywhere we
find evidence. The Fijians offer the bodies of .their victims
killed in war to the war-god before cooking them. In
Dahomey, where the militant type is so far developed that
women are warriors, men are almost daily sacrificed by the
monarch to please his dead father ; and the ghosts of old
kings are invoked for aid in war by blood sprinkled on their
tombs. The war-god of the Mexicans (originally a con-
queror), the most revered of their gods, had his idol fed with
human flesh: wars being undertaken to supply him with
victims. And similarly in Peru, where there were habitual
human sacrifices, men taken captive were immolated to the
father of the Yncas, the Sun. How militant societies of old
in the East similarly evolved deities who were similarly
propitiated by bloody rites, needs merely indicating. Habit-
ually their mythologies represent gods as conquerors;
habitually their gods are named " the strong one/' " the
destroyer," " the avenger," " god of battles," * lord of hosts/'
"man of war," and so forth. As we read in Assyrian
inscriptions, wars were commenced by their alleged will;
and, as we read elsewhere, peoples were massacred wholesale
in professed obedience to them. How its theological govern*
ment, like its political government, is essentially military,
we see even in late and qualified forms of the militant type ;
for down to the present time absolute subordination, like
that of soldier to commander, is the supreme virtue, and
disobedience the crime for which eternal torture is threat-
ened. Similarly with the accompanying ecclesias-
tical organization. Generally where the militant type is
highly developed, the political head and the ecclesiastical head
are identical — the king, chief descendant of his ancestor who
has become a god, is also chief propitiator of him. It was

SOniAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 649

so in ancient Peru ; and in Acolhuacan (Mexico) the
high-priest was the king's second son. The Egyptian
wall-paintings show us kings performing sacrifices; as do
also the Assyrian. Babylonian records harmonize with
Hebrew traditions in telling us of priest-kings. In Lydia
it was the same : Croesus was king aud priest In Sparta,
too, the kings, while military chiefs, were also high priests;
and a trace of the like original relation existed in Some.
A system of subordination essentially akin to the mili-
tary, has habitually characterized the accompanying priest-
hoods. The Fijians have an hereditary priesthood form-
ing a hierarchy. In Tahiti, where the high-priest was often
royal, there were grades of hereditary priests belonging to
each social rank. In ancient Mexico the priesthoods of
different gods had different ranks, and there were three
ranks within each priesthood ; and in ancient Peru, besides
the royal chief priest, there were priests of the conquering
race set over various classes of inferior priests. A like type
of structure, with subjection of rank to rank, has characterized
priesthoods in the ancient and modern belligerent societies of
the Old World. A kind of government essentially

the same is traceable throughout the sustaining organization
also, so long as the social type remains predominantly
militant Beginning with simple societies in which the
slave-class furnishes the warrior-class with the necessaries of
life, we have already seen that during subsequent stages of
evolution the industrial part of the society continues to be
essentially a permanent commissariat, existing solely to
supply the needs of the governmental-military structures,
and having left over for itself only enough for bare mainte-
nance. Hence the development of political regulation over
its activities, has been in fact the extension throughout it of
that military rule which, as a permanent commissariat, it
naturally had. An extreme instance is iiirnished us by the
ancient Peruvians, whose political and industrial govern-
ments were identical — whose kinds and quantities of labour

550 THK INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

for every class in every locality, were prescribed by laws
enforced by State-officers — who had work legally dictated
even for their young children, their blind, and their lame,
and who were publicly chastised for idleness: regimental
discipline being applied to industry just as our modern
advocate of strong government would have it now. The late
Japanese system, completely military in origin and nature,
similarly permeated industry: great and small things —
houses, ships, down even to mats — were prescribed in their
structures. In the warlike monarchy of Madagascar the
artizan classes are in the employ of government, and no man
can change his occupation or locality under pain of death.
Without multiplication of cases, these typical ones, reminding
the reader of the extent to which even in modern fighting
States industrial activities are officially regulated, will
sufficiently show the principle. Not industry only,

but life at large, is, in militant societies, subject to kindred
discipline. Before its recent collapse the government of
Japan enforced sumptuary laws on each class, mercantile and
other, up to the provincial governors, who must rise, dine, go
out, give audience, and retire to rest at prescribed hours;
and the native literature specifies regulations of a scarcely
credible minuteness. In ancient Peru, officers "minutely
inspected the houses, to see that the man, as well as his
wife, kept the household in proper order, and preserved a
due state of discipline among their children;" and house*
holders were rewarded or chastised accordingly. Among the
Egyptians of old each person had, at fixed intervals, to report
to the local authority his name, abode, and mode of living.
Sparta, too, yields an example of a society specially
organized for offence and defence, in which the private con-
duct of citizens in all its details was under public control,
enforced by spies and censors. Though regulations so
stringent have not characterized the militant type in more
recent ages, yet we need but recall the laws regulating food
and dress, the restraints on locomotion, the prohibitions of

SOCIAL TIPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 551

some games and dictation of others, to indicate the parallelism
of principle. Even now where the military organization has
been kept in vigour by military activities, as in France, we
are shown by the peremptory control of journals and sup-
pression of meetings, by the regimental uniformity of
education, by the official administration of the fine arts, the
way in which its characteristic regulating system ramifies
everywhere. And then, lastly, is to be noted the

theory concerning the relation between the State and the
individual, with its accompanying sentiment. This structure,
which adapts a society for combined action against other
societies, is associated with the belief that its members exist
for the benefit of the whole and not the whole for the benefit
of its members. As in an army the liberty of the soldier is
denied and only his duty as a member of the mass insisted
on ; as in a permanently encamped army like the Spartan
nation, the laws recognize no personal interests, but patriotic
ones only ; so in the militant type throughout, the claims of
the unit are nothing and the claims of the aggregate every-
thing. Absolute subjection to authority is the supreme
virtue and resistance to it a crime. Other offences may be
condoned, but disloyalty is an unpardonable offence. If we
take the sentiments of the sanguinary Fijians, among whom
loyalty is so intense that a man stands unbound to be
knocked on the head, himself saying that what the king wills
must be done ; or those of the Dahomans, among whom the
highest officials are the king's slaves, and on his decease his
women sacrifice one another that they may all follow him ; or
those of the ancient Peruvians, among whom with a dead
Ynca, or great Curaca, were buried alive his favourite at-
tendants and wives that they might go to serve him in the
other world; or those of the ancient Persians, among whom
a father, seeing his innocent son shot by the king in pure
wantonness, " felicitated " the king " on the excellence of his
archery," and among whom bastinadoed subjects "declared
themselves delighted because his majesty had condescended

552 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

to recollect them ; " we are sufficiently shown that in this
social type, the sentiment which prompts assertion of per-
sonal rights in opposition to a ruling power, scarcely exists.

Thus the trait characterizing the militant structure
throughout, is that its units are coerced into their various
combined actions. As the soldier's will is so suspended that
he becomes in everything the agent of his officer's will ; so is
the will of the citizen in all transactions, private and public,
overruled by that of the government The co-operation by
which the life of the militant society is maintained, is a
compulsory co-operation. The social structure adapted for
dealing with surrounding hostile societies is under a cen-
tralized regulating system, to which all the parts are com-
pletely subject; just as in the individual organism the outer
organs are completely subject to the chief nervous centre.

§ 260, The traits of the industrial type have to be general-
ized from inadequate and entangled data. Antagonism
more or less constant with other societies, having been
almost everywhere and always the condition of each society,
a social structure fitted for offence and defence exists in
nearly all cases, and disguises the structure which social
sustentation alone otherwise originates. Such conception as
may be formed of it has to be formed from what we find in
the few simple societies which have been habitually peaceful,
and in the advanced compound societies which, though once
habitually militant, have become gradually less so.

Already I have referred to the chiefless Arafuras, living
in " peace and brotherly love with one another," of whom we
are told that "they recognize the right of property in the
fullest sense of the word, without there being any authority
among them than the decisions of their elders, according to
the customs of their forefathers." That is, there has grown
up a recognition of mutual claims and personal rights, with
voluntary submission to a tacitly-elected representative
government formed of the most experienced. Among the

80CIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 533

Todas "who lead a peaceful, tranquil life" disputes are
"settled either by arbitration" or by "a council of five."
The amiable Bodo and Dhimals, said to be wholly unmilitary,
display an essentially-free social form. They have nothing
but powerless head men, and are without slaves or servants ;
but they give mutual assistance in clearing ground and house-
building : there is voluntary exchange of services — giving of
equivalents of labour. The Mishmis again, described as quiet,
inoffensive, not warlike, and only occasionally uniting in self-
defence, have scarcely any political organization. Their village
communities under merely nominal chiefs acknowledge no
common chief of the tribe, and the rule is democratic: crimes
are judged by an assembly. Naturally few, if any,

cases occur in which societies of this type have evolved into
larger societies without passing into the militant type ; for,
as we have seen, the consolidation of simple aggregates into
a compound aggregate habitually results from war, defensive
or offensive, which, if continued, evolves a centralized authority
with its coercive institutions. The Pueblos, however, indus-
trious and peaceful agriculturists, who, building their unique
villages, or compound houses containing 2,000 people, in
such ways as to M wall out black barbarism," fight only when
invaded, show us a democratic form of government : M the
governor and his council are elected annually by the people."
The case of Samoa, too, may be named as showing to some
extent how, in one of these compound communities where
the warlike activity is now not considerable, decline in the
rigidity of political control has gone along with some evolu-
tion of the industrial type. Chiefs and minor heads, partly
hereditary, partly elective, are held responsible for the conduct
of affairs: there are village-parliaments and district-parlia-
ments. Along with this we find a considerably-developed
sustaining organization separate from the political — masters
who have apprentices, employ journeymen, and pay wages ;
and when payment for work is inadequate, there are even
strikes upheld by a tacit trades-unionism. Passing

634 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

to more evolved societies it must be observed, first, that the
distinctive traits of the industrial type do not become marked,
even where the industrial activity is considerable, so long
as the industrial government remains identified with the
political. In Phoenicia, for example, the foreign wholesale
trade seems to have belonged mostly to the State, the kings,
and the nobles. Ezekiel describes the king of Tyrus as a
prudent commercial prince, who finds out the precious metals
in their hidden seats, enriches himself by getting them,
and increases these riches by traffic. Clearly, where the
political and military heads have thus themselves become the
heads of the industrial organization, the traits distinctive of
it are prevented from showing themselves. Of ancient
societies to be named in connexion with the relation between
industrial activities and free institutions, Athens will be at
once thought of ; and, by contrast with other Greek States,
it showed this relation as clearly as can be expected. Up
to the time of Solon all these communities were under
either oligarchies or despots. Those of them in which war
continued to be the honoured occupation while industry
was despised, retained this political type; but in Athens,
where industry was regarded with comparative respect,
where it was encouraged by Solon, and where immi-
grant artizans found a home, there grew up an industrial
organization which distinguished the Athenian society
from adjacent societies, while it was also distinguished from
them by those democratic institutions that simultaneously
developed. Turning to later times, the relation

between a social regime predominantly industrial and a less
coercive form of rule, is shown us by the Hanse Towns,
by the towns of the Low Countries out of which the Dutch
Bepublic arose, and in high degrees by ourselves, by the
United States, and by our colonies. Along with wars less
frequent and these carried on at a distance ; and along with
an accompanying growth of agriculture, manufactures, and
commerce, beyond that of continental states more military

I

SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 655

in habit; there has gone in England a development of free
institutions. As farther implying that the two are related
as cause and consequence, there may be noted the fact that
the regions whence changes towards greater political liberty
have come, are the leading industrial regions ; and that rural
districts, less characterized by constant trading transactions,
have retained longer the earlier type with its appropriate
sentiments and ideas. In the form of ecclesiastical

government we see parallel changes. Where the industrial
activities and structures evolve, this branch of the regulating
system, no longer as in the militant type a rigid hierarchy
little by little loses strength, while there grows up one of a
different kind: sentiments and institutions both relaxing.
Right of private judgment in religious matters gradually
establishes itself along with establishment of political rights.
In place of a uniform belief imperatively enforced, there
come multiform beliefs voluntarily accepted ; and the ever-
multiplying bodies espousing these beliefs, instead of being
governed despotically, govern themselves after a manner
more or less representative. Military conformity coercively
maintained gives place to a varied non-conformity main-
tained by willing union. The industrial organiza-
tion itself, which thus as it becomes predominant affects all
the rest, of course shows us in an especial degree this change
of structure. From the primitive condition under which the
master maintains slaves to work for him, there is a transi-
tion through stages of increasing freedom to a condition like
pur own, in which all who work and employ, buy and sell,
are entirely independent; and in which there is an unchecked
power of forming unions that rule themselves on democratic
principles. Combinations of workmen and counter-combina-
tions of employers, no less than political societies and
leagues for carrying on this or that agitation, show us the
representative mode of government ; which characterizes also
every joint-stock company, for mining, banking, railway-
making, or other commercial enterprise. Further,

556 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

we see that as in the militant type the mode of regulation
ramifies into all minor departments of social activity, so here
does the industrial mode of regulation. Multitudinous
objects are achieved by spontaneously-evolved combinations
of citizens governed representatively. The tendency to this
kind of organization is so ingrained that for every proposed
end the proposed means is a society ruled by an elected com-
mittee headed by an elected chairman — philanthropic asso-
ciations of multitudinous kinds, literary institutions, libraries,
clubs, bodies for fostering the various sciences and arts, etc.,
etc. Along with all which traits there go senti-

ments and ideas concerning the relation between the citizen
and the State, opposite to those accompanying the militant
type. In place of the doctrine that the duty of obedience to
the governing agent is unqualified, there arises the doctrine
that the will of the citizens is supreme and the governing
agent exists merely to carry out their will Thus sub-
ordinated in position, the regulating power is also restricted
in range. Instead of having an authority extending over
actions of all kinds, it is shut out from large classes of
actions. Its control over ways of living in respect to food,
clothing, amusements, is repudiated ; it is not allowed to dictate
modes of production nor to regulate trade. Nor is

this all. It becomes a duty to resist irresponsible govern-
ment, and also to resist the excesses of responsible govern-
ment There arises a tendency in minorities to disobey even
the legislature deputed by the majority, when it interferes in
certain ways ; and their oppositions to laws they condemn as
inequitable, from time to time cause abolitions of them.
With which changes of political theory and accompanying
sentiment, is joined a belief, implied or avowed, that the
combined actions of the social aggregate have for their end
to maintain the conditions under which individual lives may
be satisfactorily carried on ; in place of the old belief that
individual lives have for their end the maintenance of this
aggregate's combined actions.

SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 557

These pervading traits in which the industrial type differs
so widely from the militant type, originate in those relations
of individuals implied by industrial activities, which are
wholly unlike those implied by militant activities. All
trading transactions, whether between masters and workmen,
buyers and sellers of commodities, or professional men and
those they aid, are effected by free exchange. For some
benefit which A's business enables him to give, B willingly
yields up an equivalent benefit : if not in the form of some-
thing he has produced, then in the form of money gained by
his occupation. This relation, in which the mutual rendering
of services is unforced and neither individual subordinated,
becomes the predominant relation throughout society in pro*
portion as the industrial activities predominate. Daily
determining the thoughts and sentiments, daily disciplining
all in asserting their own claims while forcing them to
recognize the correlative claims of others, it produces social
units whose mental structures and habits mould social
arrangements into corresponding forms. There results a
type characterized throughout by that same individual
freedom which every commercial transaction implies. The
co-operation by which the multiform activities of the society
are carried on, becomes a voluntary co-operation. And while
the developed sustaining system which gives to a social
organism the industrial type, acquires for itself, like the
developed sustaining system of an animal, a regulating
apparatus of a diffused or uncentralized kind ; it tends also
to decentralize the primary regulating apparatus, by making
it derive from more numerous classes its deputed powers.

§ 261. The essential traits of these two social types are in
most cases obscured, both by the antecedents and by the co-
existing circumstances. Every society has been, at each past
period, and is at present, conditioned in a way more or less
unlike the ways in which others have been and are con-
ditioned. Hence the production of structures characterizing

558 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

one or other of these opposed types, is, in every instance,
furthered, or hindered, or modified, in a special manner.
Observe the several kinds of causes.

There is, first, the deeply-organized character of the par-
ticular race, coming down from those pre-historic times
during which the diffusion of mankind and differentiation of
the varieties of man, took place. Very difficult to change,
this must in every case qualify differently the tendency
towards assumption of either type.

There is, next, the effect due to the immediately-preceding
mode of life and social type. Nearly always the society
we have to study contains decayed institutions and habits
belonging to an ancestral society otherwise circumstanced;
and these pervert more or less the effects of circumstances
subsequently existing.

Again, there are the peculiarities of the habitat in respect
of contour, soil, climate, flora, fauna, severally affecting in
one mode or other the activities, whether militant or indus-
trial ; and severally hindering or aiding, in some special way,
the development of either type.

Yet further, there are the complications caused by the
particular organizations and practices of surrounding socie-
ties. For, supposing the amount of offensive or defensive
action to be the same, the nature of it depends in each case
on the nature of the antagonist action; and hence its reao
tive effects on structure vary with the character of thej
antagonist Add to this that direct imitation of adjacent
societies is a factor of some moment.

There remains to be named an element of complication'
more potent perhaps than any of these— one which of itself
often goes far to determine the type as militant, and which ,
in every case profoundly modifies the social arrangements. I
refer to the mixture of races caused by conquest or otherwise.
We may properly treat of it separately under the head of
social constitution — not, of course, constitution politically
understood, but constitution understood as referring to the

SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 659

relative homogeneity or heterogeneity of the unite constituting
the social aggregate.

§ 262. As the nature of the aggregate, partially determined
by environing conditions, is in other respects determined by
the natures of its units, where its units are of diverse natures
the degrees of contrast between the two or more kinds of
them, and the degrees of union among them, must greatly
affect the results. Are they of unallied races or of races near
akin ; and do they remain separate or do they mix ?

Clearly where it has happened that a conquering race,
continuing to govern a subject race, has developed the mili-
tant regulating system throughout the whole social structure,
and for ages habituated its units to compulsory co-operation
— where it has also happened that the correlative ecclesias-
tical system with its appropriate cult, has given to absolute
subordination the religious sanction — and especially where,
as in China, each individual is educated by the governing
power and stamped with the appropriate ideas of duty which
it is heresy to question ; it becomes impossible for any con-
siderable change to be wrought in the social structure by
other influences. It is the law of all organization that as it
becomes complete it becomes rigid. Only where incomplete-
ness implies a remaining plasticity, is it possible for the type
to develop from the original militant form to the form which
industrial activity generates. Especially where the

two races, contrasted in their natures, do not mix, social co-
operation implies a compulsory regulating system: the
militant form of structure which the dominant impose
ramifies throughout Ancient Peru furnished an extreme
case; and the Ottoman empire may be instanced. Social
constitutions of this kind, in which races having aptitudes
for forming unlike structures co-exist, are in states of unstable
equilibrium. Any considerable shock dissolves the organiza-
tion ; and in the absence of unity of tendency, re-establish-
ment of it is difficult if not impossible. In cases

SCO . THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

where the conquering and conquered, though widely unlike,
intermarry extensively, a kindred effect is produced in another
way. The conflicting tendencies towards different social
types, instead of existing in separate individuals, now exist
in the same individual The half-caste, inheriting from one
line of ancestry proclivities adapted to one set of institutions,
and from the other line of ancestry proclivities adapted to
another set of institutions, is not fitted for either. He is a
unit whose nature has not been moulded by any social type,
and therefore cannot, with others like himself, evolve any
social type. Modern Mexico and the South American
Republics, with their perpetual revolutions, show us the
result It is observable, too, that where races of

strongly-contrasted natures have mixed more or less, or,
remaining but little mixed, occupy adjacent areas subject to
the same government, the equilibrium maintained so long as
that government keeps up the coercive form, shows itself to
be unstable when the coercion relaxes. Spain with its diverse
peoples, Basque, Celtic, Gothic, Moorish, Jewish, partially
mingled and partially localized, shows us this result

Small differences, however, seem advantageous. Sundry
instances point to the conclusion that a society formed from
nearly-allied peoples of which the conquering eventually
mingles with the conquered, is relatively well fitted for
progress. From their fusion results a community which,
determined in its leading traits by the character common to
the two, is prevented by their differences of character from
being determined in its minor traits — is left capable of
taking on new arrangements wrought by new influences:
medium plasticity allows those changes of structure consti-
tuting advance in heterogeneity. One example is furnished
us by the Hebrews; who, notwithstanding their boasted
purity of blood, resulted from a mixing of many Semitic
varieties in the country -east of the Nile, and who, both in
their wanderings and after the conquest of Palestine, went
on amalgamating kindred tribes. Another is supplied by the

SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 561

Athenians, whose progress had for antecedent the mingling
of numerous immigrants from other Greek states with the
Greeks of the locality. The fusion by conquest of the
Bomans with other Aryan tribes, Sabini, Sabelli, and
Samnites, preceded the first ascending stage of the Boman
civilization. And our own country, peopled by different
divisions of the Aryan race, and mainly by varieties of
Scandinavians, again illustrates this effect produced by the
mixture of units sufficiently alike to co-operate in the same
social system, but sufficiently unlike to prevent that social
system from becoming forthwith definite in structure.

Admitting that the evidence where so many causes are in
operation cannot be satisfactorily disentangled, and claiming
only probability for these inductions respecting social con-
stitutions, it remains to point out their analogy to certain
inductions respecting the constitutions of individual living
tilings. Between organisms widely unlike in kind, no
progeny can arise: the physiological units contributed
by them respectively to form a fertilized germ, cannot work
together so as to produce a new organism. Evidently as,
while multiplying, each class of units tends to build itself
into its peculiar type of structure, their conflict prevents
the formation of any structure. If the two organisms
are less unlike in kind — belonging, say, to the same genus
though to different species — the two structures which their
two groups of physiological units tend to build up, being
tolerably similar, these can, and do, co-operate in making an
organism that is intermediate. But this, though it will
work, is imperfect in its latest-evolved parts : there results
a mule incapable of propagating. If, instead of different
species, remote varieties are united, the intermediate organ-
ism is not infertile; but many facts suggest the conclusion
that infertility results in subsequent generations: the in-
congruous working of the united structures, though longer
in showing itself, comes out ultimately. And then, finally,
if instead of remote varieties, varieties nearly allied are

2 o

562 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

united, a permanently-fertile breed results; and while the
slight differences of the two kinds of physiological units are.
not such as to prevent harmonious co-operation, they are
such as conduce to plasticity and unusually vigorous growth.
Here, then, seems a parallel to the conclusion indicated
above, that hybrid societies are imperfectly organizable —
cannot grow into forms completely stable; while societies
which have been evolved from mixtures of nearly-allied
varieties of man, can assume stable structures, and have
an advantageous modifiability.

§ 263. We class societies, then, in two ways ; both having
to be kept in mind when interpreting social phenomena.

First, they have to be arranged in the order of their inte-
gration, as simple, compound, doubly-compound, trebly-
compound. And along with the increasing degrees of
evolution implied by these ascending stages of composition,
we have to recognize the increasing degrees of evolution
implied by growing heterogeneity, general and locaL

Much less definite is the division to be made among
societies according as one or other of their great systems of
organs is supreme. Omitting those lowest types which
show no differentiations at all, we have but few exceptions
to the rule that each society has structures for carrying on
conflict with other societies and structures for carrying on
sustentation ; and as the ratios between these admit of all
gradations, it results that no specific classification can be
based on their relative developments. Nevertheless, as the
militant type, characterized by predominance of the one, is
framed on the principle of compulsory co-operation, while
the industrial type, characterized by predominance of the
other, is framed on the principle of voluntary co-operation,
the two types, when severally evolved to their extreme
forms, are diametrically opposed; and the contrasts between
their traits are among the most important with which
Sociology has to deaL

SOCIAL TYPES AND CONSTITUTIONS. 563

Were this the fit place, some pages might be added re-
specting a possible future social type, differing as much
from the industrial as this does from the militant — a type
which, having a sustaining system more fully developed
than any we know at present, will use the products of in-
dustry neither for maintaining a militant organization noi
exclusively for material aggrandizement; but will devote
them to the carrying on of higher activities. As the contrast
between the militant and the industrial types, is indicated
by inversion of the belief that individuals exist for the benefit
of the State into the belief that the State exists for the
benefit of individuals ; so the contrast between the indus-
trial type and the type likely to be evolved from it, is
indicated by inversion of the belief that life is for work
into the belief that work is for life. But we are here con-
cerned with inductions derived from societies that have
been and are, and cannot enter upon speculations respecting
societies that may be.. Merely naming, as a sign, the multi-
plication of institutions and appliances for intellectual and
{esthetic culture, and for kindred activities not of a directly
life-sustaining kind but of a- kind having, gratification for
their immediate purpose, I can here say no more.

Returning from this parenthetical suggestion, there remains
the remark that to the complications caused by crossings
of the two classifications set forth, have to be added the
complications caused by unions of races widely unlike or
little unlike ; which here mix not at all, there partially, and
in other cases wholly. Respecting these kinds of constitu-
tions, we have considerable warrant for concluding that the
hybrid kind, essentially unstable, admits of being organized
only on the principle of compulsory co-operation ; since units
much opposed in their natures cannot work together spon-
taneously. While, conversely, the kind characterized by
likeness in its units is relatively stable ; and under fit condi-
tions may evolve into the industrial type : especially if the
likeness is qualified by slight differences.

2 o 2

CHAPTER XI.

80CIAL METAM0BPH08ES.

§ 264. Verification of the general view set forth in the
last chapter, is gained by observing the alterations of social
structures which follow alterations of social activities ; and
here again we find analogies between social organisms and
individual organisms. In both there is metamorphosis
consequent on change from a wandering life to a settled
life ; in both there is metamorphosis consequent on change
from a life exercising mainly the inner or sustaining system,
to a life exercising the outer or expending system; and in
both there is a reverse metamorphosis.

The young of many invertebrate creatures, annulose and
molluscous, pass through early stages during which they
move about actively. Presently comes a settling down in
some fit habitat, a dwindling away of the locomotive
organs and the guiding appliances which they had, a growth
of those other organs now needed for appropriating such
food as the environment supplies, and a rapid enlarge-
ment of the sustaining system. A transformation
opposite in nature, is made familiar to us by the passage
from larva to imago in insects. Surrounded by food, the
future moth or fly develops almost exclusively its sustaining
system ; has but rudimentary limbs or none at all ; and has
proportionately imperfect senses. After growing immensely
and accumulating much plastic material, it begins to un-

SOCIAL HETAMOBPHOSES. 665

fold its external organs with their appropriate regulating
apparatus, while its organs of nutrition decrease ; and it thus
fits itself for active dealings with environing existences.

The one truth, common to these opposite kinds of meta-
morphoses, which here concerns us, is that the two great
systems of structures for carrying on outer activities and
inner activities respectively, severally dwindle or develop
according to the life the aggregate leads. Though in the
absence of social types fixed by repeated inheritance, we
cannot have social metamorphoses thus definitely related to
changes of life arising in definite order, analogy implies that
which we have- already seen reason to infer ; namely, that
the outer and inner structures with their regulating systems,
severally increase or diminish according as the activities
become more militant or more industrial

$ 265. Before observing how metamorphoses are caused,
let us observe how they are hindered. I have implied above
that where it has not derived a specific structure from a line
of ancestral societies leading similar lives, a society cannot
undergo metamorphoses in a precise manner and order : the
effects of surrounding influences predominate over the
effects of inherited tendencies. Here may fitly be pointed
out the convene truth, that where societies descending one
from another in a series, have pursued like careers, there
results a type so far settled in its cycle of development, ma-
turity, and decay, that it resists metamorphosis.

Uncivilised tribes in general may be cited in illustration.
They show little tendency to alter their social activities and
structures under changed circumstances, but die out rather
than adapt themselves. Even with superior varieties of men
this happens; as, for example, with the wandering hordes
of Arabs. Modern Bedouins show us a form of society which,
so far as the evidence enables us to judge, has remained
substantially the same these 3000 yean or more, spite of
contact with adjacent civilisations; and there is evidence

566 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

that in some Semites the nomadic type had, even in ancient
times, become so ingrained as to express itself in the reli-
gion. Thus we have the Bechabite injunction — "Neither
shall ye build house, nor sow corn, nor plant vineyard, nor
have any, but all your. days ye shall dwell in tents;" and
Mr. E. W. Robertson points out that —

"One of the laws of the. ancient Nabateean confederacy made it a
capital crime to sow corn, to. build a house, or plant a tree. ... It was
a fixed and settled principle in the nomad to reduce the country he
invaded to the condition of a waste and open pasturage. . . .
He looked upon such a course as a religious duty."

Change from the migratory to -the settled state, hindered

by persistence of the primitive social type, is also otherwise

hindered. Describing the Hill Tribes , on the Kuladyne

River, Arracan, Lieut. Latter says :—

"A piece of ground rarely yields more "than one crop; in each
successive year other spots are in like manner chosen, till all those
around the village are exhausted-; a move is then made to another
locality, fresh habitations are erected, and the same process gone
through. These migrations occur about every third year, and they are
the means by which long periods of time are calculated ; thus a
Toungtha will tell you that such and such an event occurred so many
migrations since."

Evidently a practice of this kind, prompted partly by the
restlessness inherited from ancestral nomads, is partly due
to undeveloped agriculture — to the absence of those means
by which, in a thickly-peopled country, the soil is made
permanently fertile. This intermediate state between the
wandering and the » stationary is common throughout Africa.
It is remarked that "society in Africa is a plant of
herbaceous character, without any solid or enduring stem;
rank in growth, rapid in decay, and admitting of being
burned down annually without any diminution of its general
productiveness." Reade .tells us that "the natives of Equa-
torial Africa are perpetually changing the sites of their
villages." Of the Beohuanas, Thompson says — "Their
towns are often so .considerable as to contain many thousand
people; and yet they are removable at the caprice of the

SOCIAL METAMORPHOSES. 56?

chief, like an Arab camp." And a like state of things
existed in primitive Europe : families and small communities
in each tribe, migrated from one part of the tribal territory
to another. Thus from the temporary villages of hunters
like the North American Indians, and from the temporary
encampments of pastoral hordes, the transition to settled
agricultural communities is very gradual : the earlier mode
of life, frequently resumed, is but slowly outgrown.

When studying the social metamorphoses that follow
altered social activities, we have therefore to bear in mind
those resistances to change which the inherited social type
offers, and also those resistances to change caused by partial
continuance of old conditions. Further, we may anticipate
reversion if the old conditions begin again to predominate.

§ 266. Of chief interest to us here are the transformations
of the militant into the industrial and the industrial into
the militant. And especially we have to note how the in-
dustrial type, partially developed in a few cases, retrogrades
towards the militant type if international conflicts recur.

When comparing these two types we saw how the com-
pulsory co-operation which military activity necessitates, is
contrasted with the voluntary co-operation which a devel-
oped industrial activity necessitates ; and we saw that where
the coercive regulating system proper to the one has
not become too rigid, the non-coercive regulating system
proper to the other begins to show itself as industry
flourishes unchecked by war. The great liberalization of
political arrangements which occurred among ourselves
during the long peace that commenced in 1815, furnishes an
illustration. An example of this metamorphosis is supplied
by Norway, too, in which country absence of war and growth
of free institutions have gone together. But our attention
is demanded chiefly by the proofs that revived belligerent
habits re-develop the militant type of structure.

Not dwelling on the instances to be found in ancient

7>68 THE INDUCTIONS Of SOCIOLOGY.

history, nor on the twice-repeated lapse of the rising Dutch
Republic into a monarchy under the reactive influences
of war, nor on the reversion from, parliamentary govern-
ment to despotic government which resulted from the wars of
the Protectorate among ourselves, nor on the effect which
a career of conquest had in changing the first French Republic
into a military despotism ; it will suffice if we contemplate
the evidence yielded in recent years. How, since the
establishment of a stronger centralized power in Germany
by war, a more coercive r6gime has shown itself, we see in
the dealings of Bismarck with the ecclesiastical powers;
in the laying down by Moltke of the doctrine that both for
safety from foreign attack and guardianship of order at
home, it is needful that the supplies for the army should
not be dependent on a parliamentary vote; and again in
the measures lately taken for centralizing the State-control
of German railways. In France we have as usual the chief
soldier becoming the chief ruler ; the maintenance, in many
parts, of that state of siege which originated with the war ;
and the continuance by a nominally-free form of government
of many restrictions upon freedom. But the kindred changes
of late undergone by our own society, furnish the clearest
illustrations ; because the industrial type having developed
here further than on the Continent* there is more scope
for retrogression.

Actual wars and preparations for possible wars, have con-
spired to produce these changes. In the first place,, since the
accession of Louis Napoleon, which initiated the change,
we have had the Crimean war, the war entailed by die
Indian Mutiny, the China war, and the more recent wars in
Abyssinia and Ashantee.* In the second place, and chiefly,
there has been the re-development of military organization
and feeling here, caused by re-development of them abroad.
That in nations as in individuals a threatening attitude
begets an attitude of defence, is a truth that needs no proof,

• And tince this m written the Afghan, Zulu, and

SOCIAL MTTAMORPHOSKS. 669

Hence among ourselves the recent growth of expenditure
for army and navy, the making of fortifications, the forma-
tion of the volunteer force, the establishment of permanent
camps, the repetition of autumn manoeuvres, the building of
military stations throughout the kingdom.

Of the traits accompanying this reversion towards the
militant type, we have first to note the revival of predatory
activities. Always a structure assumed for defensive action,
available also for offensive action, tends to initiate it.
As in Athens the military and naval organization which was
developed in coping with a foreign enemy, thereafter began
to exercise itself aggressively ; as in France the triumphant
army of the Republic, formed to resist invasion, forthwith
became an invader; so is it habitually — so is it now with
ourselves. In China, India, Polynesia, Africa, the East
Indian Archipelago, reasons — never wanting to the aggressor
— are given for widening our empire : without force if it may
be, and with force if needfuL After annexing the Fiji
Islands, voluntarily ceded only because there was no practic-
able alternative, there comes now the proposal to take
possession of Samoa. Accepting in exchange for another, a
territory subject to a treaty, we ignore the treaty and make
the assertion of it a ground for war with the Ashantees. In
Sherbro our agreements with native chiefs having brought
about universal disorder, we send a body of soldiers to
suppress it, and presently will allege the necessity of extend-
ing our rule over a larger area. So again in Perak. A
resident sent to advise becomes a resident who dictates;
appoints as sultan the most plastic candidate in place of one
preferred by the chiefs; arouses resistance which becomes
a plea for using force; finds usurpation of the government
needful; has his proclamation torn down by a native, who
it thereupon stabbed by the resident's servant ; the resident
is himself killed as a consequence; then (nothing being
said of the murder of the native), the murder of the
resident leads to outcries for vengeance, and a military

57d THE INDUCTIONS OP SOCTOIOGT.

expedition establishes British rule. Be it in the slaying of
Karen tribes who resist surveyors of their territory, or be it
in the demand made on the Chinese in pursuance of the
doctrine that a British traveller, sacred wherever he may
choose to intrude, shall have his death avenged on some
one, we everywhere find pretexts for quarrels which lead
to acquisitions. In the House of Commons and in the
Press, the same spirit is shown. During the debate on the
Suez-Canal purchase, our Prime Minister, referring to the
possible annexation of Egypt, said that the English people,
wishing the Empire to be maintained, " will not be alarmed
even if it be increased;" and was cheered for so saying.
And recently, urging that it is time to blot out Dahomey, the
weekly organ of filibustering Christianity exclaims — * Let
us take Whydah, and leave the savage to recover it"

And now, having observed this re-development of
armed forces and revival of the predatory spirit, we may
note that which chiefly concerns us — the return towards
the militant type in our institutions generally — the exten-
sion of centralized administration and of compulsory regula-
tion. In the first place we see it within the governmental
organization itself: the functions of courts-martial on naval
disasters are usurped by the head of the naval department ;
the powers of the Indian Government are peremptorily
restricted by a minister at home; and county governing
bodies, seeking to put part of their county burdens on the
nation at large, are simultaneously yielding up part of their
powers. Military officialism everywhere tends to usurp the
place of civil officialism. We have military heads of the
metropolitan and provincial police; military men hold
offices under the Board of Works and in the Art depart-
ment; the inspectors of railways are military men; and
some municipal bodies in the provinces are appointing
majors and captains to minor civil offices in their giftc
an inevitable result being a style of administration which
assert* authority more and regards individual claims

r

SOCIAL METAMORPHOSES. 571

less. The spirit of such a system we see in the design
and execution of the Contagious Diseases Acts — Acts
which emanated from the military and naval depart-
ments, which over-ride those guarantees of individual free-
dom provided by constitutional forms, and which are
administered by a central police not responsible to local
authorities. Akin in spirit is the general sanitary dictation
which, extending for these many years, has now ended
in the formation of several hundred districts officered by
medical men, partly paid by the central government and
under its supervision. Within the organization of the
medical profession itself we see a congruous change : inde-
pendent bodies who give diplomas are no longer to be
tolerated, but there must be unification — a single standard
of examination. Poor-Law .administration, again, has been
growing more centralized: boards of guardians having had
their freedom of action gradually restricted by orders from
the Local Government Board. Moreover, while the regu-
lating centres in London have been .absorbing the functions
of provincial regulating centres, these have in their turn
been usurping those of local trading companies. In sundry
towns municipal bodies have .become distributors of gas
and water ; and now it is urged (significantly enough by a
military enthusiats) that the same should be done in London.
Nay, these public agents have become builders too. The
supplying of small houses having, by law-enforced cost of
construction, been made unremunerative to private persons,
is now in provincial towns to be undertaken by the munici-
palities; and in London the Metropolitan Board having
proposed that the rate-payers should spend so much to
build houses for the poor in the Holborn district, the
Secretary of State says they must spend more ! Of
like meaning is the fact that our system of telegraphs,
developed as a part of the industrial organization, has
become a part of the governmental organization. And then
similarly showing the tendency towards increase of govern-

\

672 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

mental structures at the expense of industrial structures,
there has been an active advocacy of State-purchase of
railways — an advocacy which has been for the present
suspended only because of the national loss entailed by
purchase of the telegraphs. How pervading is the influence
we see in the schemes of a* coercive philanthropy, which,
invoking State-power to improve people's conduct, disre-
gards the proofs that the restrictions on conduct enacted
of old, and in later times abolished as tyrannical, habitually
had kindred motives. Men are to be made temperate by
impediments to drinking — shall be less free than hitherto
to buy and sell certain articles.. Instead of extending the
principle proper to the industrial' type, of providing quick
and costless remedies for injuries, minor as well as major,
which citizens inflict on one another, legislators extend the
principle of preventing them by inspection. The arrange-
ments in mines, factories, ships, lodging-houses, bakehouses,
down even to water-closets in private dwellings, are pre-
scribed by laws carried out by officials. Not by quick and
certain penalty for breach of contract is adulteration to be
remedied, but by public analyzers. Benefits are not to be
bought by men with the money their efficient work brings
them, which is the law of voluntary co-operation, but bene-
fits are given irrespective of effort expended : without regard
to their deserts, men shall be provided at the public cost
with free libraries, free local museums, etc.; and from the
savings of the mote worthy shall be taken by the tax-
gatherer means of supplying the less worthy who have not
saved. Along with the tacit assumption that State-authority
over citizens has no assignable limits, which is an assump-
tion proper to the militant type, there goes an unhesitating
faith in State-judgment, also proper to the militant type.
Bodily welfare and mental welfare are consigned to it without
the least doubt of its capacity. Having by struggles through
centuries deposed a power which, for their alleged eternal
good, forced on men its teachings, we invoke another power

SOCIAL MSTAlfORPHOSES. 573

to foree its teachings on men for their alleged temporal
good. The compulsion once supposed to be justified in
religious instruction by the infallible judgment of a Pope, is
now supposed to be justified in secular instruction by the
infallible judgment of a Parliament; and thus, under
penalty of imprisonment for resistance, there is established
an education bad in matter, bad in manner, bad in order.

Inevitably along with this partial reversion to the com-
pulsory social system which accompanies partial reversion
to the militant type of structure, there goes an appropriate
change of sentiments. In essence Toryism stands for the
control of the State versus the freedom of the individual;
and in essence Liberalism stands for the freedom of the
individual versus the control of the State. But whereas,
during the previous peaceful period, individual liberty
was extended by abolishing religious disabilities, establish*
ing free-trade, removing impediments from the press, eta ;
since the reversion began, the party which effected these
changes has vied with the opposite party in multiplying
State-administrations which diminish individual liberty.
How far the principles of free government have been
disregarded, and how directly this change is sequent upon
the feeling which militant action fosters, is conclusively
shown by the Suez-Canal business. A step which, to say
nothing of the pecuniary cost, committed the nation to
entanglements of a serious kind, was taken by its ministry
in such manner that its representative body had a nominal,
but no real, power of reversing it; and instead of protest
against this disregard of constitutional principles, there
came general applause. The excuse accepted by all
was the military exigency. The prompt action of the
co-ordinating centre by which offensive and defensive
operations are directed, was said to necessitate this ignoring
of Parliament and this suspension of self-government.
And the general sentiment, responding to the alleged need
for keeping our hold on a conquered territory, not only

574 TUB INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

forgave but rejoiced over this return towards military
rule.

$ 267. Of course social metamorphoses are in every
case complicated and obscured by special causes never
twice a like. Where rapid growth is going on, the changes
of structure accompanying increase of mass are involved
with the changes of structure resulting from modification
of type. Further, disentanglement of the facts is made
difficult when the two great systems of organs for sustentation
and external action are evolving simultaneously. This is
our own case. That re-development of structures for ex-
ternal action which we have been tracing, and that partial
return to a congruous social system, have not arrested the
development of the sustaining structures and that social
system they foster. Hence sundry changes opposite to those
enumerated above. While the revival of ecclesiasticism
having for cardinal principle subordination to authority, has-
harmonized with this reversion towards the militant type, the
increase of divisions in the Church, the assertions of indi-
vidual judgment, and the relaxations of dogma, have har-
monized with the contrary movement While new educa-
tional organizations tending towards regimental uniformity,
are by each fresh Act of Parliament made more rigid, the
old educational organizations in public schools and uni-
versities, are being made more plastic and less uniform.
While there have been increasing interferences with the
employment of labour, wholly at variance with the prin-
ciples of voluntary co-operation, they have not yet gone
far enough to reverse the free-trade policy which in-
dustrial evolution has been extending. The interpretation
appears to be that while the old compulsory system of re-
gulation has been abolished where its pressure had become
intolerable, this re-development of it is going on where its
pressure has not yet been felt

Moreover, the vast transformation suddenly caused by
railways and telegraphs, adds to the difficulty of tracing

SOCIAL METAMORPIIOSES. 575

metamorphoses of the kinds we are considering. Within
a generation the social organism has passed from a
stage like that of a cold-blooded creature with feeble
circulation and rudimentary nerves, to a stage like that of a
warm-blooded creature with efficient vascular system and a
developed nervous apparatus. To this more than to any
other cause, are due the great changes in habits, beliefs,
and sentiments, characterizing our generation. Manifestly,
this rapid evolution of the distributing and internuncial
structures, has aided the growth of both the industrial
organization and the militant organization. While pro-
ductive activities have been facilitated, there has been a
furtherance of that centralization characterizing the social
type required for offensive and defensive actions.

But notwithstanding these disguising complexities, if we
contrast the period from 1815 to 1850 with the period from
1850 to the present time, we cannot fail to see that along
with increased armaments, more frequent conflicts, and
revived military sentiment, there has been a spread of
compulsory regulations. While nominally extended by the
giving of votes, the freedom of the individual has been in
many ways actually diminished ; both by restrictions which
ever-multiplying officials are appointed to insist on, and by
the forcible taking of money to secure for him, or others at
his expense, benefits previously left to be secured by each
for himself. And undeniably this is a return towards that
coercive discipline which pervades the whole social life
where the militant type is predominant.

In metamorphoses, then, so far as they are traceable, we
discern general truths harmonizing with those disclosed by
comparisons of types. With social organisms, as with indi-
vidual organisms, the structure becomes adapted to the
activity. In the one case as in the other, if circumstances
entail a fundamental change in the mode of activity, there
by-and-by results a fundamental change in the form of
structure. And in both cases there is a reversion towards
the old type if there is a resumption oi the old activity.

CHAPTER XIL

QUALIFICATIONS AND SUMMARY.

§ 268. One who made the analogies between individual
organization and social organization his special subject,
might carry them farther in several directions.

He might illustrate the general truth that as fast as
structure approaches completeness, modifiability diminishes
and growth ends. The finished animal, moulded in all
details, resists change by the sum of those forces which have
evolved its parts into their respective shapes; and the
finished society does the like. In either case results, at
length, rigidity. Every organ of the one and institution of
the other becomes, as maturity is neared, more coherent and
definite, and offers a greater obstacle to alterations required
either by increase of size or variation of conditions.

Then he might enlarge on the fact that, as in individual
organisms so in social organisms, after the structures proper
to the type have fully evolved there presently begins a slow
decay. He could not, indeed, furnish satisfactory proof of
this; since among ancient societies, essentially militant in
their activities, dissolution by conquest habitually prevented
the cycles of changes from being completed; and since
modern societies are passing through their cycles. But the
minor parts of modern societies, especially during those
earlier times when local development was little implicated
with general development, would yield him evidence. He

QUALIFICATIONS AND SUMMARY. 577

might instance the fact that ancient corporate towns, with
their guilds and regulations of industry, gradually made more
numerous and stringent, slowly dwindled, and gave way
before towns in which the absence of privileged classes per-
mitted freedom of industry: the rigid old structure having
its function usurped by a plastic new one. In each institu-
tion, private or public, he might point to the ever-multiplying
usages and bye-laws, severally introduced to fit the actions
to the passing time, but eventually making adaptation to a
coming time impracticable. And he might infer that a like
fate awaits each entire society, which, as its adjustments to
present circumstances are finished, loses power to re-adjust
itself to the circumstances of the future: eventually dis-
appearing, if not by violence, then by a decline consequent
on inability to compete with younger and more modifiable
societies.

Were his speculative audacity sufficient, he might end by
alleging parallelisms between the processes of reproduction
in the two cases. Among primitive societies which habitu-
ally multiply by fission, but are by conquest occasionally
fused, group with group, after which there is presently
a recurrence of fission, he might trace an -analogy to what
happens in the lowest types of organisms, which, multiplying
fissiparously, from time to time reverse the process by that
fusion which naturalists call conjugation. Then he might
point out that in either case the larger and stationary types
propagate by the dispersion of germs. Adult organisms which
are fixed, send off groups of such units as they are them-
selves composed of, to settle down elsewhere and grow into
organisms like themselves, as settled societies send off their
groups of colonists. And he might even say that as union of
the germinal group detached from one organism with a group
detached from a similar organism, is either essential to, or
conducive to, the vigorous evolution of a new organism ; so
the mixture of colonists derived from one society with others
derived from a kindred society, is, it not essential to, still

2 p

578 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

conducive to, the evolution of a new society more plastic
than the old ones from which the mingled units were derived.
But without committing ourselves to any such further
adventurous suggestions, we may leave the comparison as it
stands in preceding chapters,

§ 269. This comparison has justi6ed to a degree that
could scarcely have been anticipated, the idea propounded
by certain philosophers and implied even in popular language.
Naturally it happened that this idea took at first crude forms.
Let us glance at some of them.

In the Republic of Plato, asserting the fact, not even yet
adequately recognized, that " the States are as the men are ;
they grow out of human characters/' Socrates is represented
as arguing — u then if the constitutions of States are five, the
dispositions of individual minds will also be five :" an absurd
corollary from a rational proposition. Division of labour
is described as a social need ; but it is represented rather
as having to be established than as establishing itself.
Throughout, the conception, like indeed to conceptions that
prevail still, is that society may be artificially arranged
thus or thus. Alleging such likeness between the State
and the citizen that from the institutions of the one may
be deduced the faculties of the other, Plato, with the
belief that the States, growing "out of human characters,"
are " as the men are," joins the belief that these States, with
characters thus determined, can yet determine the characters
of their citizens. Chiefly, however, the erroneous nature of
the analogy held by Plato to exist between the individual
and the State, he shows by comparing reason, passion or
spirit, and desire, in the one, to counsellors, auxiliaries, and
traders in the other. Not to the mutually-dependent parts
of the bodily organization are the mutually-dependent parts of
the political organization supposed to be analogous, but rather
to the co-operating powers of the mind. The con-

ception of Hobbes in one respect only, approaches nearer to

QUALIFICATIONS AND SUMMARY. 579

a rational conception. Like Plato he regards social organiza-
tion not as natural but as factitious : propounding, as he does,
the notion of a social contract as originating governmental
institutions, and as endowing the sovereign with irrevocable
authority. The analogy as conceived by him is best ex-
pressed in his own words. He says: — "For by art is
created that great Leviathan called a Commonwealth, or
State, in Latin Civitas, which is but an artificial man ; though
of greater stature and strength than the natural, for whose
protection and defence it was intended; and in which the
sovereignty is an artificial soul, as giving life and motion to
the whole body; the magistrates, and other officers of judica-
ture, artificial joints; reward and punishment, by which
fastened to the seat of the sovereignty every joint and mem->
ber is moved to perform his duty,, are the nerves, that do the
same in the body natural;" etc. Here, in so far as the
comparison drawn is in the main between the structures of
the two, is it less indefensible than that of Plato ; which is a
comparison between structures in the one and functions in
the other. But the special analogies named are erroneous ;
as is also, in common with that of Plato, the general analogy ;
since it is alleged between the organization of a society and
the organization of a human being — an analogy far too
special Living at a later time, when biologists

had revealed to some extent the principles of organization,
and recognizing social structures as not artificially made but
naturally developed, M. Comte avoided these errors ; and, not
comparing the social organism to an individual organism of
any one kind, held simply that the principles of organization
are common to societies and animals. He regarded each
stage of social progress as a product of preceding stages ; and
he saw that the evolution of structures advances from the
general to the special He did not, however, entirely escape
the early misconception that institutions are artificial ar-
rangements; for he inconsistently held it possible for societies

2*2

580 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

to be forthwith re-organiaed in conformity with the principles
of his u PosititB Philosophy;'

Here let it once more be distinctly asserted that there exist
no analogies between the body politic and a living body, save
those necessitated by that mutual dependence of parts which
they display in common. Though, in foregoing chapters,
Bundry comparisons of social structures and functions to
structures and functions in the human body, have been made,
they have been made only because structures and functions
in the human body furnish familiar illustrations of structures
and functions in general. The social organism, discrete
instead of concrete, asymmetrical instead of symmetrical,
Sensitive in all its units instead of having a single sensitive
centre, is not comparable to any particular type of individual
organism, animal or vegetal All kinds of creatures are alike
in so far as each exhibits co-operation among its components
for the benefit of the whole ; and this trait, common to them,
is a trait common also to societies. Further, among indi-
vidual organisms, the degree of co-operation measures the
degree of evolution; and this general truth, too, holds
among social organisms. Once more, to effect increasing co-
operation, creatures of every order show us increasingly-
complex appliances for transfer and mutual influence ; and
to this general characteristic, societies of every order furnish
a corresponding characteristic These, then are the analogies
alleged : community in the fundamental principles of organi-
sation is the only community asserted.*

§ 270. But now let us drop this alleged parallelism be-
tween individual organizations and social organizations. I
have used the analogies elaborated, but as a scaffolding to

• This emphatic* repudiation of the belief that there is any special analogy
between the social organism and the human organism, I hare a motire for
making. A. rude outline of the general oonoeption elaborated in the preceding
eleven chapters, was published by me in the Wesiminelwr Review for January,
1860. In it I expreHsly rejected the conception of Plato and Hobbes, that
there is a likeness between social organization and the organization oi a J

I

QUALIFICATIONS AND 8UMMABY. 681

help in building up a coherent body of sociological inductions.
Let us take away the scaffolding : the inductions will stand
by themselves.

We saw that societies are aggregates which grow ; that in
the various types of them there are great varieties in the
growths reached; that types of successively larger sizes
result from the aggregation and re-aggregation of those of
smaller sizes ; and that this increase by coalescence, joined
with interstitial increase, is the process through which have
been formed the vast civilized nations.

Along with increase of size in societies goes increase of
structure. Primitive hordes are without established distinc-
tions of parts. With growth of them into tribes habitually
come some unlikenefcses'; both in the powers and occupations
of their members. Unions of tribes are followed by more
unlikeoessee, governmental and industrial— social grades
running through .the whole mass, and contrasts between the
differently-occupied parts in different localities. Such dif-
ferentiations multiply as the compounding progresses. They
proceed from the general to the special. First the broad
division between ruling and ruled; then within the ruling
part divisions into political, religious, military, and within
the ruled part divisions into food-producing classes and
haudi-craf tsmeu ; then within each of these divisions minor
ones, and so on.

Passing from the structural aspect to the functional aspect,
we note that &o long ' as all parts of a society have like
natures and activities, there is hardly any mutual depen-
dence, and the aggregate scarcely forms a vital whole. As its
parts assume different functions they become dependent on
one another, so that injury to one hurts others ; until, in
highly-evolved societies, general perturbation is caused by
derangement of any portion. This contrast between undo*

>t

man ; eaying that " there !• no warrant whaterer for anwiming this.
Kerefthelees, a eritimm on the article in the Saturday Mtviea, ascribed to
m* the idea which I had thus ctiafcinetlT condemned.

582 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

veloped and developed societies, arises from the fact that
with increasing specialization of functions comes increasing
inability in each part to perform the functions of other parts.

The organization of every society begins with a contrast
between the division which carries on relations, habitually
hostile, with environing societies, and the division which is
devoted to procuring necessaries of life; and during the
earlier stages of development these two divisions constitute
the whole. Eventually there arises an intermediate division
serving to transfer products and influences from part to part
And in all subsequent stages, evolution of the two earlier
systems of structures depends on evolution of this additional
system.

While the society as a whole has the character of its sus-
taining system determined by the character of its environ*
ment, inorganic and organic, the respective parts of this
system differentiate in adaptation to local circumstances;
and, after primary industries have been thus localized and
specialized, secondary industries dependent on them arise in
conformity with the same principle. Further, as fast as
societies become compounded and re-compounded, and the
distributing system develops, the parts devoted to each kind
of industry, originally scattered, aggregate in the most
favourable localities ; and the localized industrial structures,
unlike the governmental structures, grow regardless of the
original lines of division*

Increase of size, resulting from the massing of groups,
necessitates means of communication; both for achieving
combined offensive and defensive actions, and for exchange
of products. Faint tracks, then paths, rude roads, finished
roads, successively arise ; and as fast as intercourse is thus
facilitated, there is a transition from direct barter to trading
carried on by a separate class ; out of which evolves a com*
plex mercantile agency of wholesale and retail distributors.
The movement of commodities effected by this agency,
beginning as a slow flux to and re-flux from certain places at

QUALIFICATIONS AND SUMMABY. 683

long intervals, passes into rhythmical, regular, rapid currents ;
and materials for sustentation distributed hither and thither,
from being few and crude become numerous and elaborated.
Growing efficiency of transfer with greater variety of trans-
ferred products, increases the mutual dependence of parts at
the same time that it enables each part to fulfil its function
better.

Unlike the sustaining system, evolved by converse with
the organic and inorganic environments, the regulating sys-
tem is evolved by converse, offensive and defensive, with
environing societies. In primitive headless groups temporary
chieftainship results from temporary war ; chronic hostilities
generate permanent chieftainship; and gradually from the
military control results the civil control Habitual war,
requiring prompt combination in the actions of parts,
necessitates subordination. Societies in which there is little
subordination disappear, and leave outstanding those in which
subordination is great ; and so there are produced, societies
in which the habit fostered by war and surviving in peace,
brings about permanent submission to a government The
centralized regulating system thus evolved, is in early stages
the sole regulating system. But in large societies which
have become predominantly industrial, there is added a de-
centralized regulating system for the industrial structures;
and this, at first subject in every way to the original system,
acquires at length substantial independence. Finally there
arises for the distributing structures also, an independent
controlling agency.

Societies fall firstly into the classes of simple, compound,
doubly-compound, trebly-compound; and from the lowest
the transition to the highest is through these stages. Other-
wise, though less definitely, societies may be grouped as
militant and industrial; of which the one type in its
developed form is. organized on the principle of compulsory
co-operation, while the other in its developed form is
organized on the principle of voluntary co-operation. The

581 THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.

one is characterized not only by a despotic central power, but
also by unlimited political control of personal conduct; while
the other is characterized not only by a democratic or repre-
sentative central power, but also by limitation of political
control over personal conduct

Lastly we noted the corollary that change in the predomi-
nant social activities brings metamorphosis. If, where the
militant type has not elaborated into so rigid a form as to
prevent change, a considerable industrial system arises, there
come mitigations of the coercive restraints characterizing
the militant type, and weakening of its structures. Con-
versely, where an industrial system largely developed has
established freer social forms, resumption of offensive and
defensive activities causes reversion towards the militant
type.

§ 271. And now, summing up the results of this general
survey, let us observe the extent to which we are prepared
by it for further inquiries.

The many facts contemplated unite in proving that social
evolution forms a part of evolution at large. Like evolving
aggregates in general, societies show integration, both by
simple increase of mass and by coalescence and re-coales-
cence of masses. The change from homogeneity to heteroge-
neity is multitudinously exemplified; up from the simple
tribe, alike in all its parts, to the civilized nation, full of
structural and functional unlikenesses. With progressing
integration and heterogeneity goes increasing coherence* We
see the wandering group dispersing, dividing, held together
by no bonds ; the tribe with parts made more coherent by
subordination to a dominant man; the cluster of tribes
united in a political plexus under a chief with sub-chiefs ;
and so on up to the civilized nation, consolidated enough to
hold together for a thousand years or more. Simultaneously
comes increasing defiititenees. Social organisation is at first
vague; advance brings settled arrangements which grow

QUALIFICATIONS AND SUMMARY. 585

slowly more precise ; customs pass into laws which, while
gaining fixity, also become more specific in their applications
to varieties of actions ; and all institutions, at first confusedly
intermingled, slowly separate, at the same time that each
within itself marks off more distinctly its component struc-
tures. Thus in all respects is fulfilled the formula of evolu-
tion. There is progress towards greater size, coherence, mul-
tiformity, and definiteness.

Besides these general truths, a number of special truths
have been disclosed by our survey. Comparisons of societies
in their ascending grades, have made manifest certain cardinal
facts respecting their growths, structures, and functions
—facts respecting the systems of structures, sustaining!
distributing, regulating, of which they are composed:
respecting the relations of these structures to the sur-
rounding conditions and the dominant forms of social
activities entailed; and respecting the metamorphoses oi
types caused by changes in the activities. The inductions
arrived at, thus constituting in rude outline an Empirical
Sociology, show that in social phenomena there is a general
order of co-existence and sequence; and that therefore
social phenomena form the subject-matter of a science
reducible, in some measure at least, to the deductive form.

Guided, then, by the law of evolution in general, and, in
subordination to it, guided by the foregoing inductions, we
are now prepared for following out the synthesis of social
phenomena. We must begin with those simplest ones pre-
sented by the evolution of the family.

586

POSTSCRIPT TO PART IL

Some remarks made in the Revue Philosophique for May, 1877, by an
acute and yet sympathetic critic, M. Henri Marion, show me the need
for adding here an explanation which may prevent other readers from
being puzzled by a seeming inconsistency.

M. Marion indicates the contrast I have drawn between those
individual organisms in which, along with a developed nutritive
system there is an undeveloped nervous system, and those in
which a developed nervous system enables the organism to co-ordinate
its outer actions so as to secure prey and escape enemies : rightly
saying that I class the first as relatively low and the second as relatively
high. He then points out that I regard as analogous to these types of
individual organisms, those types of social organisms which are
characterized, the one by a largely-developed sustaining or indus-
trial system with a feeble regulating or governmental system, and the
other by a less-developed industrial system joined with a centralized
governmental system, enabling the society effectually to combine its
forces in conflict with other societies. And he proceeds to show that
though, in classing the types of animals, I put those with undeveloped
nervous systems as low and those with developed nervous systems
as high ; in classing societies I tacitly imply that those with pre-
dominant industrial or sustaining systems are superior to those with
highly-centralized and powerful regulating systems. He says : —
" En naturaliste qu'il est, il regarde visiblement comme sup6rieurs aux
autres les e*tats les plus centralists.* (Ill, 516.) And then commenting
on the dislike which, as "an Englishman of the Liberal school," I
3how for such centralized societies, and my admiration for the free,
Less-governed, industrial societies, he emphasizes the incongruity by
laying : — " Mais trientdt le moraliste en lui combat le naturaliste ;
et la liberty individuelle, principe d'anarchie cependant, trouve en
lui un d&enseur aussi chaleureux qu'inattendu." (*6.)

I regret that when writing the foregoing chapters I omitted to contrast
the lives of individual organisms and of social organisms in such way as

587

to show the origin of this seeming incongruity. It is this : — Individual
organisms, whether low or high, have to maintain their lives by offensive
or defensive activities, or both : to get food and escape enemies
ever remain the essential requirements. Hence the need for a
regulating system by which the actions of senses and limbs may be
co-ordinated. Hence the superiority that results from a centralized
nervous apparatus to which all the outer organs are completely
subordinate. It is otherwise with societies. Doubtless during the
militant stages of social evolution, the lives of societies, like the lives
of animals, are largely, or even mainly, dependent on their powers
of offence and defence ; and during these rtages, societies having
the most centralized regulating systems can use their powers most
effectually, and are thus, relatively to the temporary requirements, the
highest Such requirements, however, are but temporary. Increase
of industrialism and decrease of militancy, gradually bring about a
state in which the lives of societies do not depend mainly on their
powers of dealing offensively and defensively with other societies, but
depend mainly on those powers which enable them to hold their own in
the struggles of industrial competition. So that, relatively to these
ultimate requirements, societies become high in proportion to the
evolution of their industrial systems, and not in proportion to the
evolution of those centralized regulating systems fitting them for
carrying on wars. In animals, then, the measure of superiority
remains the same throughout, because the ends to be achieved remain
the same throughout; but in societies the measure of superiority is
entirely changed, because the ends to be achieved are entirely changed.
This answer prepares the way for an answer to a previous objection
M. Marion makes. I have pointed out that whereas, in the individual
organism, the component units, mostly devoid of feeling, carry on their
activities for the welfare of certain groups of units (forming the nervous
centres) which monopolize feeling ; in the social organism, all the units
are endowed with feeling. And I have added the corollary that
whereas, in the individual organism, the units exist for the benefit of
the aggregate, in the social organism the aggregate exists for the benefit
of the units. M. Marion, after indicating these views, expresses his
astonishment that, having clearly recognized this difference, I after-
wards take so little account of it, and do not regard it as affecting the
analogies I draw. The reply is that my recognition of this profound
difference between the ends to be subserved by individual organiza-
tions and by social organizations, causes the seemingly-anomalous
estimation of social types explained above. Social organization is to
be considered high in proportion as it subserves individual welfare,

588

because in a society the units are sentient and the aggregate insen-
tient ; and the industrial type is the higher because, in that state of
permanent peace to which civilization i$ tending, it subserves individual
welfare better than the militant type. During the progressive stages
of militancy, the welfare of the aggregate takes precedence of indi-
vidual welfare, because this depends on preservation of the aggre-
gate from destruction by enemies; and hence, under the militant
regime, the individual, regarded as existing for the benefit of the
State, has his personal ends consulted only so far as consists with
maintaining the power of the State. But as the necessity for self-
preservation of the society in conflict with other societies, decreases,
the subordination of individual welfare to corporate welfare 'becomes
less ; and finally, when the aggregate has no external dangers to meet,
the organization proper to complete industrialism which it acquires,
conduces to individual welfare in the greatest degree. The industrial'
type of society, with its de-centralized structures, is the highest, because
it is the one which most subserves that happiness of the units which is
to be achieved by social organization, as distinguished from that
happiness of the aggregate which is to be achieved by individual
organization with its centralized structures.

PART III.

DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

CHAPTEE L

THE MAINTENANCE OF SPECIES,

§ 272. As full understanding of the social relations cannot
be gained without studying their genesis, so neither can full
understanding of the domestic relations ; and fully to under-
stand the genesis of the domestic relations, we must go
further back than the history of man carries us.

Of every species it is undeniable that individuals which
die must be replaced by new individuals, or the species as a
whole must die. No less obvious is it that if the death-rate
in a species is high, the rate of multiplication must be high,
and conversely. This proportioning of reproduction to mor-
tality is requisite for mankind as for every other kind.
Hence the facts exhibited by living beings at large must be
considered that the facts exhibited by human beings may
be clearly comprehended,

§ 273. Regarding the continued life of the species as in
every case the end to which all other ends are secondary (for
if the species disappears all other ends disappear), let us look
at the several modes there are of achieving this end. The
requirement that a due number of adults shall arise in succes-
sive generations, may be fulfilled in variously-modified ways,
which subordinate the existing and next-succeeding members
of the species in various degrees.

Low creatures having small powers of meeting the life-
destroying activities around! and still smaller powers of pro-

692 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

tecting progeny, can maintain their kinds only if the mature
individual produces the germs of new individuals in immense
numbers ; so that, unprotected and defenceless though the
germs are, one or two may Escape destruction. And manifestly,
the larger the part of the parental substance transformed into
germs (and often most of it is so transformed), the smaller
the part that can be devoted to individual life.

With each germ is usually laid up some nutritive matter,
available for growth before it commences its own struggle for
existence. From a given quantity of matter devoted by the
parent to reproduction, there may be formed either a larger
number of germs with a smaller quantity of nutritive matter
each, or a smaller number with a larger quantity each.
Hence result differences in the rates of juvenile mortality.
Here of a million minute ova left uncaied for, the majority
are destroyed before they are hatched; multitudes of the
remainder, with t the feeblest powers of getting food and
evading enemies, die or are devoured soon after they are
hatched; so that very few have considerable lengths of
individual life. Conversely, when the conditions to be met
by the species make it advantageous that there should be
fewer ova and more nutriment bequeathed to each, the young
individuals, beginning life at more advanced stages of deve-
lopment, survive longer. The species is maintained without
the sacrifice of so many before arrival at maturity.

All varieties in the proportions of these factors occur.
An adult individual, the single survivor from hundreds of
thousands of germs, may itself be almost wholly sacrificed
individually in the production of germs equally numerous;
in which case the species is maintained at enormous cost,
both to adults and to young. Or the adult, devoting but a
moderate portion of its substance to the production of multi-
tudinous germs, may enjoy a considerable amount of life ; in
which case the cost of maintaining the species is shown ia
a great mortality of the young. Or the adult, sacrificing its
substance almost entirely, may produce a moderate number

THE MAINTENANCE OF SPECIES. 593

of ova severally well provided with nutriment and well pro-
tected, among which the mortality is not so great ; and in
this case the cost of maintaining the species falls more on
the adult and less on the young.

§ 274 Thus while, in one sense, the welfare of a species
depends on the welfare of its individuals, in another sense,
the welfare of the species is at variance with the welfare of
its individuals ; and further, the sacrifice of individuals may
tell in different proportions on the undeveloped and on the
mature.

Already in the Principles of Biology, §§ 319 — 51, the
antagonism between Individuation and Genesis under its
general aspects has been set forth. Here certain of its
special aspects concern us. To comprehend them clearly,
which we shall find it important to do, we must look at them
more closely.

2q

CHAPTER IL

THE DIVERSE INTEREST 0* THE BPECIE8, OF THE PARINTS,

AND OF THE OFFSPRING.

. § 275. Among the microscopic Protteaa, there ifi perpetual
spontaneous fission. After a few hours of independent
existence, each individual is sacrificed in producing two new
individuals, which, severally growing, soon themselves repeat
the process. And then from time to time there occurs a
still more extreme form of reproductive dissolution* After
a period of quiescence the entire body breaks up into germs
whence arise a new generation. Here, then, a parental life,
extremely brief, disappears absolutely in the lives of progeny.
Animal aggregates of the second order show us sundiy
ways in which this direct transformation of the parental body
into the bodies of offspring takes place; though now, of
course, at longer intervals. Among the Ccelenterata, there is
the case of certain MedvscB, where the polype-like body of the
parent, or gwasi-parent, after reaching a certain growth,
changes into a series of segments looking like a pile of
saucers, each of which in turn swims away and becomes a
medusa. In these and allied cases of cyclical generation, it
may, however, be held that, as the medusa is the adult form,
the body of an unsexual individual is sacrificed in producing
these partially-developed sexual individuals. A

kindred result is achieved in a different manner among some
trematode Untozoa. Evolved far enough to have head, appen

DIVERSE INTERESTS 07 SPECIES, PARENTS, ETC. 595

dages, and alimentary system, a Cercaria presently transforms
its internal substance into young Cercaria substantially like
itself; and, eventually bursting, sets them free, severally to
pursue the same course* finally, after two or three genera-
tions so produced, complete individuals are formed.

Different in method, but showing us in an equal degree
the dissolution of a parent's body into portions that are to
continue the race, is the mode of reproduction in the ces-
toid Entozoa. A segment of a tape-worm, known as a pro-
glottis in its adult and separated state, has then a life shown
only by a feeble power of movement It has descended
from one out of myriads of eggs produced by a preceding tape-
worm ; and is itself, at the time of becoming an independent
individual, nothing more than a receptacle for innumerable
eggs. Without limbs, without senses, without even alimentary
system, its vitality is scarcely higher than that of a plant ;
and it dies as soon as its contained masses of ova are ma-
tured. Here we have an extreme instance of subordination
both of adult and young to the interests of the species.

Ascending now to higher types, let us take a few examples
from the Articnlata. Many kinds of parasitic crustaceans,
such as the Lernea, pass through a brief early stage during
which the young individual swims about Nearly always it
then dies ; but if it succeeds in fixing itself on a fish, it loses
its limbs and senses, and, doing nothing but absorb nutriment
from the fish, evolves enormous ovisacs. Budding out from
the sides of its body, these by and by greatly exceed its body
in bulk : the parental life is lost in producing multitudinous
eggs. An instance analogous in result, though different

in method, occurs even among insects. Having no higher life
than is implied by sucking the juice of the cactus over which
it creeps, the female cochineal insect develops, as it approaches
maturity, masses of ova which eventually fill its interior;
*nd g$dually, as its substance is absorbed by the ova, it dies
and leaves the shell of its body as a protective envelope for
them : whence issuing, ninety-nine are devoured for one thai

2 Q 2

596 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

survives. Among superior insects, along with perhaps

an equal sacrifice of young, the sacrifice of adults is less
After a larval stage during which the vital activities are rela-
tively low and the mortality high, there comes, for the one
survivor out of hundreds, an active maturity. This, however,
is brief — sometimes lasting but for a few days ; and after the
eggs are laid, life forthwith ceases.

The Vertebrate furnish such further illustrations as are
needed. In this class the sacrifice of parental life to the
maintenance of the species, is in few if any cases direct. A
cod produces above a million eggs, and, surviving, does this
year after year ; but though the life of the parent is preserved,
nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand and more of the
progeny have their lives cut short at various stages on the
way to maturity. In higher types of the class, producing
comparatively few eggs that are better provided for, this
sacrifice of the rising generation to the interests of the
species is much less ; and for the like reason it is much less
also in the next highest group of vertebrates, the Amphi-
bia. Passing to Birds, we find preservation of the
race secured at a greatly diminished cost to both parents and
offspring. The young are so well fostered that out of a small
number most grow up ; while here perhaps a half, and there
perhaps a fourth, reach the reproductive stage. Further, the
lives of parents are but partially subordinated at times when
the young are being reared. And then there are long inter-
vals between breeding-seasons, during which the lives of
parents are carried on for their own sakes. In the
highest class of vertebrates, the Mammalia, regarded as a
whole, we see a like general advance in this conciliation of
the interests of the species, the parents, and the young ; and
we also see it within the class itself, on ascending from its
lower to its higher types. A small rodent reaches maturity
in a few months ; and, producing large and frequent broods,
soon dies. There is but a short early period during which the
female lives for herself, and she mostly loses life before the

DIVERSE INTERESTS OF SPECIES, PARENTS, ETC. 597

reproductive age is past: thus having no latter days un-
burdened by offspring. Turning to the other extreme we find
an immense contrast. Between twenty and thirty years of
a young elephant's life passes entirely in individual develop-
ment and activity. The tax of bearing offspring, relatively
few and at long intervals, subordinates in but a moderate
degree the life of the adult female. And though our know-
ledge does not enable us to say how long life lasts after the
reproductive age is past, yet, considering that the powers
remain adequate for sustentation and self-defence, we may
infer that the female elephant usually enjoys a closing series
of many years ; while the male is throughout life scarcely at
all taxed.

§ 276. In yet another way does evolution-' decrease the
sacrifice of individual life to the life of the* species. The
material cost of reproduction involves an equivalent sub-
traction from individual development and activity, for which
among low types there is no compensation ; but as we ascend
through higher types we find an increasing compensation in
the shape of parental pleasures.

Limiting our illustrations to vertebrate animals, we see that
by most fishes and amphibians, the spawn, once deposited, is
left to its fate: there is great physical expense, and if no
subsequent efforts are entailed, there are also none of the
accompanying gratifications. It is otherwise with birds and
mammals. While the rearing of offspring entails labour on
one or both parents, the parental life, though thereby in one
way restricted, is in another way extended; since it has
become so moulded to the requirements* that the activities of
parenthood are sources of agreeable emotions, just as are the
activities which achieve self-sustentation.

When, from the less intelligent of these higher vertebrates
which produce many young at short intervals, and have to
abandon them at early ages, we ascend to the more intelligent
which produce few young at longer intervals, and give them

598 DOMESTIC INSTTTUTIOHS.

aid for longer periods ; we peTceivc that* while the rate of
juvenile mortality is thus diminished, there results both a
lessened physical cost of maintaining the species, and an
augmented satisfaction of the affections.

§ 277. Here, then, we have definite measures by which to
determine what constitutes advance in the relations of parents
to offspring and to one another. In proportion as organisms
become higher they are individually less sacrificed to the
maintenance of the species ; and the implication is that in the
highest type of man this sacrifice falls to a minimum.

Commonly, when discussing domestic institutions, the
welfare of those immediately concerned is almost exclusively
regarded. The goodness or badness of given connexions
between men and women, is spoken of as though the effects
on the existing adult generation were chiefly to be con-
sidered ; and, if the effects on the rising generation are taken
into account, little if any thought is given to the effects
which future generations will experience. This order has,
as we see, to be reversed.

Family organizations of this or that kind have first to be
judged by the degrees in which they help to preserve the
social aggregates they occur in ; for, in relation to its com*
ponent individuals, each social aggregate stands for the
species. Mankind survives not through arrangements which
refer to it as a whole, but by survival of its separate societies ;
each of which struggles to maintain its existence in presence
of other societies. And survival of the race, achieved through
survival of its constituent societies, being the primary
requirement, the domestic arrangements most conducive to
survival in each society, must be regarded as relatively appro-
priate.

In so far as it consists with preservation of the society,
the next highest end is raising the largest number of healthy
offspring from birth to maturity. The qualification does
not seem needed ; but we shall find evidence that it is

DIVERSE INTBBBST8 Of QPJGCIKS, PARENTS, ETa 599

needed. Societies, and especially primitive groups, do not
always thrive by unchecked increase in their numbers ; but,
contrariwise, in some cases preserve themselves from extinc-
tion at the cost of increased mortality of the young.

After welfare of the social group and welfare of progeny,
comes welfare of parents. That form of marital relation
must in each case be held the best which, subject to these
preceding requirements, furthers most, and burdens least, the
lives of adult men and women.

And as a last end to be contemplated comes that further-
ance of individual life which we see when the declining years
of parents, lengthened and made pleasurable by offspring, also
become sources of pleasure to those offspring.

Uniting these propositions, we draw the corollary that the
highest constitution of the family is reached when there is
such conciliation between the needs of the society and those
of its members, old and young, that the mortality between
birth and the reproductive age falls to a minimum, while the
lives of adults have their subordination to the rearing of
children reduced to the smallest possible. The diminution
of this subordination takes place in three ways: first, by
elongation of that period which precedes reproduction ;
second, by decrease in the number of offspring borne, as
well as by increase of the pleasures taken in the care of
them; and third, by lengthening of the life which follows
cessation of reproduction*

This ideal of the family suggested by a survey of the
sexual and parental relations throughout the organic world,
is also the ideal to which comparisons between the lower
and the higher stages of human progress point In savage
tribes we find great juvenile mortality : there is commonly
more or less infanticide ; or there are many early deaths from
unfavourable conditions; or there are both. Again, these
inferior races are characterized by early maturity and com-
mencing reproduction ; implying shortness of that first period
during which the individual life is carried on for its own

600 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

sake. While fertility lasts, the tax, especially on the women,
who are also exhausted by drudgeries, is great. The marital
and parental relations are sources of pleasures neither so
high nor so prolonged as in the civilized races. And then
after children have been reared, the remaining life of either
sex is brief: often being ended by violence; often by de-
liberate desertion ; and otherwise by rapid decay unchecked
by filial care.

We are thus furnished with both a relative standard and
an absolute standard by which to estimate domestic insti-
tutions in each stage of social progress. While, judging
them relatively, by their adaptations to the accompanying
social requirements, we may be led to regard as needful in
their times and places, arrangements that are repugnant to
us ; we shall, judging them absolutely, in relation to the most
developed types of life, individual and national, find good
reasons for reprobating them. For this preliminary survey
reveals the fact that the domestic relations which are the
highest as ethically considered, are also the highest as con-
sidered both biologically and sociologically.*

* This seems the fittest place for naming an important suggestion made
by an American adherent of mine, late Lecturer on Philosophy at Harvard
University, Mr. John Fiske, respecting the transition from the gregariouaness
of anthropoid creatures to the sociality of human beings, caused by the rela-
tions of parents to offspring. (See Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy, voL ii,
pp. 342-4.) Postulating the general law that in proportion as organisms
are complex they evolve slowly, he infers that the prolongation of infancy
which accompanied development of the less intelligent primates into the
more intelligent ones, implied greater duration of parental care. Children,
not so soon capable of providing for themselves, had to be longer nurtured
by female parents, to some extent aided by male parents, individually or
jointly i and hence resulted a bond holding together parents and offspring
for longer periods, and tending to initiate the family. That this has been a
co-operating factor in social evolution, is highly probable.

CHAPTER III

PRIMITIVE RELATIONS OF THE 8EXE8.

§ 278. Most readers will have thought it strange to begin
an account of domestic institutions by surveying the most
genera] phenomena of race-maintenance. But they may see
the propriety of setting out with a purely natural-history
view, on being shown that among low savages the relations
of the sexes are substantially like those common among infe-
rior creatures.

The males of gregarious mammals usually fight for pos-
session of the females; and primitive men do not in this
respect differ from other gregarious mammals. Hearne says
of the Chippewayans that "it has ever been the custom
among these people for the men to wrestle for any woman
to whom they were attached." According to Hooper, a Slave
Indian, desiring another one's wife, fights with her husband.
Among the Bushmen, " the stronger man will sometimes take I
away the wife of the weaker." Narcisse Peltier, who from
twelve years of age up to twenty-nine was detained by a
tribe of Queensland Australians, states that the men "not
unfrequently fight with spears for the possession of a
woman." And summing up accounts of the Dogrib Indians,
Sir John Lubbock says — " In fact, the men fight for the pos-
session of the women, just like stags."

Nor is it on the part of males only, that this practice
exists. Peltier tells us that in the above-named tribe, the

602 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

women, of whom from two to five commonly belong to each
man, fight among themselves about him: "their weapons
being heavy staves with which they beat one another about
the head till the blood flows." And the trait of feminine
nature thus displayed, is congruous with one indicated by
Mitchell, who says that after battle it frequently happens
among the native tribes of Australia, that the wives of the
vanquished, of their own free will, pass over to the victors :
reminding us of a lioness which, quietly watching the fight
between two lions, goes off with the conqueror.

We have thus to begin with a state in which the family,
as we understand it, does not exist. In the loose groups of
men first formed, there is no established order of any kind :
everything is indefinite, unsettled. As the relations of men
to one another are undetermined, so are the relations of
men to women. In either case there are no guides save
the passions of the moment, checked only by fears of con-
sequences. Let us glance at the facts which show the rela-
tions of the sexes to have been originally unregulated by the
institutions and ideas we commonly regard as natural.

§ 279. According to Sparrman, there is no form of union
between Bushmen and Bush women save w the agreement of
the parties and consummation." Keating tells us that the
Chippewas have no marriage ceremony. Hall says the same
thing of the Esquimaux, Bancroft of the Aleuts, Brett of the
Arawftks, Tennent of the Veddahs ; and the Lower Califor-
nians, Banoroft says, " have no marriage ceremony, nor any
word in their language to express marriage. like buds or
beasts, they pair off according to fancy."

Even where a ceremony is found, it is often nothing more
than either a forcible or a voluntary commencement of living
together. Very generally there is a violent seizure of the
w jman by the man — a capture ; and the marriage is con-
cluded by the completion of this capture. In some eases the
man and woman light a fire and sit by it; in some cases, as

PRIMITIVE RELATIONS OF THE SEXES. C03

among the Todaa, the union is established when the bride
performs " some trifling household function ;" in some cases,
as among the Port Dory people of New Guinea, u the female
gives her intended some tobacco and betel-leaf." When the
Navajos desire to marry, " they sit down on opposite sides of
a basket, made to hold water, filled with atole or some other
food, and partake of it. This simple proceeding makes them
husband and wife/' Kay, we have the like in the old Soman
form of confarreatio — marriage constituted by jointly eating
cake. These indications that the earliest marriage-ceremony
was merely a formal commencement of living together, imply
a preceding time when the living together began informally.

Moreover, such domestic union as results is so loose,
and often so transitory as scarcely to constitute an advance.
In the Chippewayan tribes divorce "consists of neither
more nor less than a good drubbing, and turning the
woman out of doors." The Periciii .(Lower Californian)
" takes as many women as he pleases, makes them work for
him as slaves, and when tired of any one of them turns her
away." Similarly, when one of the Tupis " was tired of a
wife, he gave her away, and he took as many as he pleased."
For Tasmanians not to change their wives, was " novel to
their habits, and at variance with their traditions." Among
the Easias, " divorce is so frequent that their unions can
hardly be honoured with the name of marriage." Even
peoples so advanced as the Malayo-Polynesians furnish
kindred facts. In Thomson's New Zealand we read that
* men were considered to have divorced their wives when
they turned them out of doors." And in Tahiti " the mar-
riage tie was dissolved whenever either of the parties
desired it" It may be added that this careless breaking of
marital bonds is not peculiar to men. Where women have
the power, as among the above-named Easias, they cavalierly
turn their husbands out of doors if they displease them ; and
the like happened with some of the ancient Nicaraguans.

These facts show us that the marital relations, like the

604 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

political relations, have gradually evolved; and that there
did not at first exist those ideas and feelings which among
civilized nations give to marriage its sanctity.

§ 280. Absence of these ideas and feelings is further shown
by the prevalence in rude societies of practices which are to
us in the highest degree repugnant

Various of the uncivilized and semi-civilized display hos-
pitality by furnishing guests with temporary wives. Her-
rera tells us of the Cumana people, that " the great men
kept as many women* as they pleased, and gave the beauti-
fullest of them to any stranger they entertained." Savages
habitually thus give their wives and daughters. Among such
Sir John Lubbock enumerates the Esquimaux, North and
South American Indians, Polynesians, Australians, Berbers,
Eastern and Western Negroes, Arabs, Abyssinians, Kaffirs,
Mongols, Tutski, etc. Of the Bushman's wife Lichtenstein
tells us that when the husband gives her permission, she
may associate with any other man. Of the Greenland Es-
quimaux, Egede states that " those are reputed the best and
noblest tempered who, without any pain or reluctancy, will
lend their friends their wives."

Akin is the feeling shown by placing little or no value on
chastity in the young. In Benguela (Congo) poor maidens
are led about before marriage, in order to acquire money by
prostitution. The Mexicans had an identical custom:
" parents used when the maidens were marriageable, to send
them to earn their portions, and accordingly they ranged about
the country in a shameful manner till they had got enough
to marry them off/' The ancient people of the Isthmus of
Darian thought "prostitution was not infamous; noble
ladies held as a maxim, that it was plebeian to deny anything
asked of them" — an idea like that of the Andamanese,
among whom "any woman who attempted to resist the
marital privileges claimed by any member of the tribe was
liable to severe punishment" Equally strange are

PRIMITIVE RELATIONS OF THE SEXES. 605

the marital sentiments displayed by certain peoples, both
extant and extinct. Of the Hassanyeh Arabs, whose
marriages are for so many days in the week, usually four,
Petherick says that during a preliminary negotiation the
bride's mother protests against " binding her daughter to a
due observance of that chastity which matrimony is expected
to command, for more than two days in the week ; " and
there exists on the part of the men an adapted sentiment.
The husband, allowing the wife to disregard all marital obli-
gations during the off days, even considers an intrigue with
some other man as a compliment to his own taste. Some of
the Ghibchas betrayed a kindred feeling. Not simply were
they indifferent to virginity in their brides, but if their brides
were virgins " thought them unfortunate and without luck, as
they had not inspired affection in men: accordingly they
disliked them as miserable women."

While lacking the ideas and feelings which regulate the
relations of the sexes among advanced peoples, savages often
exhibit ideas and feelings no less strong, but of quite
contrary characters. The Columbian Indians hold that " to
give away a wife without a price is in the highest degree
disgraceful to her family ; " and by the Modocs of California
" the children of a wife who has cost her husband nothing
are considered no better than bastards, and are treated by
society with contumely." In Burton's Abeokuta, we read
that * those familiar with modes of thought in the East well
know the horror and loathing with which the people generally
look upon the one-wife system" — a statement we might
hesitate to receive were it not verified by that of Livingstone
concerning the negro women on the Zambesi, who were
shocked on hearing that in England a man had only one
wife, and by that of Bailey, who describes the disgust of a
Kandyan chief when commenting on the monogamy of the
Veddahs.

§ 281. Still more are we shown that regular relations of

606 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

the sexes are results of evolution, and that the sentiments
upholding them have been gradually established, on finding
how little regard is paid by many uncivilized and semi-
civilized peoples to those limitations which blood-relationships
dictate to the civilized.

Among savages, connexions which we condemn as in the
highest degree criminal, are not infrequent The Chippe-
wayans " cohabit occasionally with their own mothers, and
frequently espouse their sisters and daughters ; " and Langs-
dorff asserts the like of the Kadiaks. So, too, among the
Karens of Tenasserim, "matrimonial alliances between
brother and sister, or father and daughter, are not uncom
mon." To these cases from America and Asia may be added
a case from Africa. To keep the royal blood pure, the kings
of Cape Gonzalves and Gaboon are accustomed to marry
their grown up daughters, and the queens marry the eldest
sons.

Incest of the kind that is a degree less shocking is exem-
plified by more numerous peoples. Marriage between
brother and sister Was not prohibited by the *' barbarous
Chechemecas" and "the Panuchese." The people of Call,
" married their nieces, and some of the lords their sisters."
" In the district of New Spain four or five cases ... of
marriage with sisters were found." In Peru, the " Yncas from
the first established it as a very stringent law and custom that
the heir to the kingdom should marry his eldest sister, legi-
timate both on the side of the father and the mother*" So is
it in Polynesia. Among the Sandwich Islanders, near con-
sanguineous marriages are frequent in the royal family-
brothers and sisters sometimes marrying; and among the
Malagasy, "the nearest of kin marry, even brother and
sister, if they have not the same mother." Nor do ancient
peoples of the old world fail to furnish instances. That
the restriction, prohibiting marriage with a uterine sister,
was not observed in Egypt, we have sufficient evidence
" from the sculptures of Thebes " agreeing " with the ac«

PBDOTITX RELATIONS OF THE 8EXES. €07

eounts of ancient Greek and Roman writers in proving that
some of the Ptolomies adopted this ancient custom." Even
our own Scandinavian kinsmen allowed incest of this kind.
It is stated in the Ynglimga Saga that Niord took his own
sister in marriage, " for that was allowed by " the Vanaland
law.

It may be said that certain of these unions are with half*
sisters (like the union of Abraham and Sarah) ; that such
occurred among the Canaanites, Arabians, Egyptians, Assy-
rians, Persians ; and that they go along with non-recognition
of kinship in the male line. But admitting this to be true
in some of the cases, though clearly not in others, we are
still shown how little warrant exists for ascribing to primi-
tive instinct the negations of unions between those nearly
related ; for the very words forbidding marriage to a half*
sister having the same mother, though not to one having
the same father, clearly imply that the male parenthood is
habitually known though disregarded.

As further proving that sentiments such as those which
among ourselves restrain the sexual instincts, are not innate,
I may add the strange fact which Bailey tells us concerning
the Veddahs. Their custom " sanctions the marriage of a
man with his younger sister. To marry an elder sister or
aunt would, in their estimation, be incestuous, a connexion
in every respect as revolting to them as it would be to
us — as much out of the question and inadmissible as the
marriage with the younger sister was proper and natural It
was, in feet, ike proper marriage*"

§ 282. While the facts show us the general association
between the rudest forms of social existence and the most
degraded relations of the sexes, they do not show us that
social progress and progress towards a higher type of family
life, are uniformly connected. Various anomalies meet us.

Unenduring unions characterize many of the lowest races ;
and yet the miserable Veddahs,, lower than most in their

608 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

social state, form very enduring unions. Bailey writes—
"Divorce is unknown among them. ... I have heard a
Veddah say, 'Death alone separates husband and wife'":
a trait in which their Kandyan neighbours, otherwise supe-
rior, differ from them widely.

Nor does the diminution of incestuous connexions preserve
a constant ratio to social evolution. Those extreme forms of
them which we have noted among some of the most degraded
races of North America, are paralleled among royal families
in African kingdoms of considerable size ; while forms of
them a degree less repulsive are common to savage and semi-
civilized.

Though that type of family-life in which one wife has
several husbands is said to occur among some of the lowest
tribes, as the Fuegians, yet it is by no means common
among the lowest ; while we meet with it among relatively-
advanced peoples, in Ceylon, in Malabar, and in Thibet
And the converse arrangement, of many wives to one hus-
band, almost universally allowed and practised by savages,
not only survives in semi-civilized societies but has held its
ground in societies of considerably-developed types, past and
present.

Neither are there connexions so clear as might have been
expected, between sexual laxity and general debasement,
moral or social ; and conversely. The relations between the
men and women in the Aleutian Islands are among the most
degraded. Nevertheless these islanders are described by
Cook as "the most peaceful, inoffensive people I ever met
with. And, as to honesty, they might serve as a pattern to
the most civilized nation upon earth." On the other hand,
while the Thlinkeet men are said to "treat their wives and
children with much affection," and the women to show
" reserve, modesty, and conjugal fidelity," they are described
as thievish, lying, and extremely cruel : maiming their pri-
soners out of pure wantonness and killing their slaves.
Similarly, though the Bachapins (Bechuanas) are reprobated

i

j

PRIMITIVE RELATIONS OF THE SEXES. 609

as lamentably debased, having a universal disregard to truth
and indifference to murder, yet the women are modest and
u almost universally faithful wives." A kindred anomaly
meets us on contrasting societies in higher stages. We have
but to read Cook's account of the Tahitians, who were not
only advanced in arts and social arrangements, but displayed
the kindlier feelings in unusual degrees, to be astonished at
their extreme disregard of restraints on the sexual instincts.
Conversely, those treacherous, bloodthirsty cannibals the
Fijians, whose atrocities Williams said he dared not record,
are superior to most in their sexual relations. Erskine
states of them that " female virtue* may be rated at a high
standard for a barbarous people/*

Moreover, contrary to what we should expect, we find
great sexual laxity in some directions joined with rigidity in
others. Among the Koniagas "a young unmarried woman
may live uncensured in the freest intercourse with the men ;
though, as soon as she belongs to one man, it is her duty to
be true to him.'9 In Cumana •' the maidens .. .. . made* little
account of their virginity. The married women . * . lived
chaste." And Pedro Pizarro says of the Peruvians that
"the wives of the common people were faithful to their
husbands. . . . Before their marriage,, their fathers did not
care about their being either good or bad^ nor was it a
disgrace with them" to have loose habits* Even of those
Chibcha husbands above referred to as so strangely indif-
ferent, or less than indifferent, to feminine chastity before
marriage, it is said that " nevertheless,, they were very sensi-
tive to infidelity."

The evidence, then, does not allow us to infer, as we
should naturally have done, that advance in the forms of the
sexual relations and advance in social evolution, are con-
stantly and uniformly connected.

$ 283. Nevertheless, on contemplating the facts in their
ensemble, we see that progress towards higher social types is

2 B

610 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

joined with progress towards higher types of domestic insti-
tutions. Comparison of the extremes make this unquestion-
able. The lowest groups of primitive men, without political
organization, are also without anything worthy to be called
family organization : the relations between the sexes and the
relations between parents and offspring are scarcely above
those of brutes. Contrariwise, all civilized nations, charac-
terized by definite, coherent, orderly social arrangements, are
also characterized by definite, coherent, orderly domestic
arrangements. Hence we cannot doubt that, spite of irregu-
larities, the developments of the two are associated in a
general way.

Leaving here this preliminary survey, we have now to
trace, so far as we can, the successively higher forms of
family structure. We may expect to find the genesis of each
depending on the circumstances of the society: conducive-
iiess to social self-preservation under the conditions of the
case, being the determining cause. Setting out with wholly-
unregulated relations of the sexes, the first customs estab-
lished must have been those which most favoured social
survival ; not because this was seen, but because the societies
that had customs less fit, disappeared.

But before considering the several kinds of sexual rela-
tions, we must consider a previous question — Whence come
the united persons? — Are they of the same tribe or of
different tribes ? or are they sometimes one and sometimes
the other 2

CHAPTER IV.

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY.

§ 284. In his ingenious and interesting work on Primi-
tive Marriage* the words "Exogamy" and "Endogamy"
are used by Mr. M'Lennan to distinguish the two practices
of taking to wife women belonging to other tribes, and
taking to wife women belonging to the same tribe. As
explained in his preface, his attention was drawn to these
diverse customs by an inquiry into " the meaning and origin
of the form of capture in marriage ceremonies;" — an in-
quiry which led him to a general theory of early sexual
relations. The following outline of his theory I disentangle,
as well as I can, from statements that are not altogether
consistent.

Scarcity of food led groups of primitive men to destroy
female infants; because, "as braves and hunters were re-
quired and valued, it would be the interest of every horde
to rear, when possible, its healthy male children. It would
be less its interest to rear females, as they would be less
capable of self-support, and of contributing, by their exer-
tions, to the common good." (p. 165.)

Mr. M'Lennan next alleges that "the practice in early
times of female infanticide," " rendering women scarce, led

• Primitive Marriage. Bj John F. M'Lennan, Edinburgh, 1865 ; repub-
lished in Studies in Ancient History, London, 1876. As the edition* ara
alike, the references ooniinue, as originaUj made, to the first one.

2 B 2

C12 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

at once to polyandry within the tribe, and the capturing of
women from without" (p. 138.)

Joined with a re-statement of the causes we come upon
an inferred result, as follows: — "The scarcity of women
within the group led to a practice of stealing the women
of other groups, and in time it came to be considered im-
proper, because it was unusual, for a man to marry a woman
of his own group." (p. 289.) Or, as he says on p. 140,
"usage, induced by necessity, would in time establish a
prejudice among the tribes observing it [exogamy] — a pre-
judice, strong as a principle of religion, as every prejudice
relating to marriage is apt to be — against marrying women
of their own stock."

To this habitual stealing of wives, and re-stealing of them,
as among the Australians (p. 76), he ascribes that doubtful
paternity which led to the recognition of kinship through
females only. Though elsewhere admitting a more general
cause for this primitive form of kinship (p. 159), he regards
wife-stealing as its most certain cause: saying that "it
must have prevailed wherever exogamy prevailed— exogamy
and the consequent practice of capturing wives. Certainty
as to fathers is impossible where mothers are stolen from
their first lords, and liable to be re-stolen before the birth
of children." (p. 226.)

Assuming the members of each tribe Which thus grew into
the practice of wife-stealing, to have been originally homo-
geneous in blood, or to have supposed themselves so, Mr.
M'Lennan argues that the introduction of wives who were
foreigners in blood, joined with the rise of the first definite
conception of relationship (that between mother and child)
and consequent system of kinship in the female line, led to
recognized heterogeneity within the tribe. There came to exist
within the tribe, children regarded as belonging by blood to
the tribes of their mothers. Hence arose another form of
exogamy. The primitive requirement that a wife should ha
stolen from another tribe, naturally became confounded with

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY. 613

the requirement that a wife should be of the blood of another
tribe; and hence girls born within the tribe from mothers
belonging to other tribes, became eligible as wives. The
original exogamy, carried out by robbing other tribes of their
women, gave place, in part, or wholly, to the modified
exogamy carried out by marrying from within the tribe,
women bearing family names which implied that they were
foreign in blood.

In tracing the development of higher forms of the domestic
relations, Mr. M'Lennan postulates, as we have seen, that the
scarcity of women "led at once to polyandry within the
tribe, and the capturing of women from without." (p. 138.)
Describing and illustrating the different forms of polyandry,
ending in that highest form in which the husbands are
brothers, he points out that at this stage there arose recog-
nition not only of descent in the female line, but also of
descent in the male line ; since the father's blood was known,
though not the father.

Then through gradually-established priority of the elder
brother, as being the first of the group to marry and the
first likely to have children, it became an accepted fiction
that all the children were his : u the elder brother was a sort
of paterfamilias ;" and " the idea of fatherhood " thus caused,
was a step towards kinship through males, and a " step away
from kinship through females." (pp. 243-4)

Pointing out that among some polyandrous peoples, as the
Xandyans, the chiefs have become monogamists, Mr. M'Len-
nan argues (p. 245) that their example would be followed, and
"thus would arise a practice of monogamy or of polygamy."
And he thence traces the genesis of the patriarchial form, the
system of agnation, the institution of caste.

Though this outline of Mr. M'Lennan's theory is expressed,
wherever regard for brevity permits, in his own words, yet
possibly he may take exception to it; for, as already hinted,
there are incongruities in his statements, and the order in
which they are placed is involved. Unquestionably many of

C14 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

the phenomena he describes exist. It is undeniable that the
stealing of women, still habitual with sundry low races, was
practised in past times by races now higher ; and that the form
of capture in marriage-ceremonies prevails in societies where
no real capture occurs at present It is undeniable that kin-
ship through females is, among various primitive peoples, the
only kinship avowedly recognized; and that it leads to
descent of name, rank, and property in the female line. It
is undeniable that in many places where wife-stealing is, or
has been, the practice, marriage is forbidden between those of
the same family name, who are assumed to be of the same
stock. But while admitting much of the evidence, and while
accepting some of the inferences, we shall find reason for
doubting Mr. M'Lennan's theory taken as a whola Let us
consider, first, the minor objections.

§ 285. Sundry facts inconsistent with his conclusion,
though referred to by Mr. M'Lennan, he passes over as of
no weight He thinks there is warrant for the belief that
exogamy and wife-capture have "been practised at a cer-
tain stage among every race of mankind" (p. 138): this
stage being the one now exemplified by sundry low races.
Nevertheless, he admits that "the separate endogamous
tribes are nearly as numerous, and they are in some respects
as rude, as the separate exogamous tribes/' (p. 145.) Now
if, as he believes, exogamy and wife-stealing have "been
practised at a certain stage among every race of mankind*9
— that stage being the primitive one ; and if, as he seeks
to prove, endogamy is a form reached through a long series,
of social developments ; it is difficult to understand how
the endogamous tribes can be as rude as the exogamous
ones. Again, he names the fact that " in some dis-

tricts— as in the hills on the north-eastern frontier of India,
in the Caucasus, and the hill ranges of Syria — we find a
variety of tribes, proved, by physical characteristics and

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY. 615

the affinities of language, of one and the same original
stock, yet in this particular differing toto calo from one
another— some forbidding marriage within the tribe, and
some proscribing marriage without it" (pp. 147-8): a fact
by no means congruous with his hypothesis.

Should Mr. M'Lennan reply that on pp. 47-8 he has recog-
nized the possibility, or probability, that there were tribes
primordially endogamous — should he say that on pp. 144-5
will be found the admission that perhaps exogamy and endo-
gamy " may be equally archaic ;" the rejoinder is that besides
being inconsistent with his belief that exogamy has " been
practised at a certain stage among every race of mankind,"
this possibility is one which he practically rejects. On pp.
148-50, he sketches out a series of changes by which exoga-
mous tribes may eventually become endogamous ; and in sub-
sequent pages on the " Growth of Agnation/' and " The Rise
of Endogamy," he tacitly asserts that endogamy has thus
developed : if not without exception, still, generally. Indeed,
the title of one of his chapters — " The Decay of Exogamy in
Advancing Communities," clearly implies the belief that
exogamy was general, if not universal, with the uncivilized ;
and that endogamy grew up along with civilization. Thus
the incongruity between the propositions quoted in the last
paragraph, cannot be escaped.

Sundry other of Mr. M'Lennan's reasonings conflict with
one another. Assuming that in the earliest state, tribes were
stock-groups "organized on the principle of exogamy," he
speaks of them as having "the primitive instinct of the
race against marriage between members of the same stock *
(p. 118). Yet, as shown above, he elsewhere speaks of wife-
capture as caused by scarcity of women within the tribe
and attributes to this " usage induced by necessity" the pre-
judice against " marrying women of their own stock." More-
over, if, as he says (and I believe rightly says) on p. 145,
" men must originally have been free of any prejudice against

y

6iG DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

marriage between relations" it seems inconsistent to allege
that there was a "primitive instinct" "against marriage
between members of the same stock.9'

Again, while in some places the establishment of the exo-
gamons prejudice is ascribed to the practice of wife-stealing
(pp. 53-4 and p. 136), it is elsewhere made the antecedent of
wife-stealing: interdict against marriage within the tribe was
primordial Now if this last is Mr. M'Lennan's view, I agree
with Sir J. Lubbock in thinking it untenable. Tn the earliest
groups of men there cannot have been any established rules
about marriage. Unions of the sexes must have preceded all
social laws. The rise of a social law implies a certain pre-
ceding continuity of social existence ; and this preceding con-
tinuity of social existence implies the reproduction of succes-
sive generations. Hence reproduction entirely unregulated
by interdicts, must be taken as initial

Assuming, however, that of his two views Mr. M'Lennan
will abide by the more tenable one, that wife-stealing led to
exogamy, let us ask how far he is justified in alleging that
female infanticide, and consequent scarcity of women, led to
wife-stealing. At first sight it appears undeniable that de-
struction of infant girls, if frequent, must have been accom-
panied by deficiency of adult females ; and it seems strange
to call in question the legitimacy of this inference. But
Mr. M'Lennan has overlooked a concomitant Tribes in a
state of chronic hostility are constantly losing their adult
males, and the male mortality so caused is often great Hence
the killing many female infants does not necessitate lack of
women : it may merely prevent excess. Excess must, indeed,
be inevitable if, equal numbers of males and females being
reared, some of the males are from time to time slain. The
assumption from which Mr. M'Lennan e argument sets out>
is, therefore, inadmissible.

How inadmissible it is, becomes conspicuous on finding
that where wife-stealing is now practised, it is commonly
associated with polygyny. The Fucgians, named by Mr.

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY. 617

M'Lennan among wife-stealing peoples, are polygynists.
According to Dove, the Tasmanians were polygynists, and
Lloyd says that polygyny was universal among them; yet
the Tasmanians were wife-stealers. The Australians furnish
Mr. M'Lennan with a typical instance of wife-stealing and
exogamy ; and though Mr. Oldfield alleges scarcity of women
among them, yet other testimony is quite at variance with
his. Mitchell says : — " Most of the men appeared to possess
two [females], the pair in general consisting of a fat plump
gin, and one much younger ;" and according to Peltier, named
in the last chapter as having lived seventeen years with the
Macadama tribe, the women were " more numerous than the
men, every man having from two to five women in his suite."
The Dakotahs are at once wife-stealers and polygynists,
Burton tells us; and the Brazilians similarly unite these
traits. Writing of polygyny as practised on the Orinoco,
Humboldt says : — " It is most considerable among the Caribs,
and all the nations that have preserved the custom of carrying
off young girls from the neighbouring tribes/' How then
can wife-stealing be ascribed to scarcity of women ?

A converse incongruity likewise militates against Mr.
M'Lennan's theory. His position is that female infanticide,
"rendering women scarce, led at once to polyandry within
the tribe, and the capturing of women from without/' But
polyandry does not, so far as I see, distinguish wife-
stealing tribes. We do not find it among the above-named
Tasmanians, Australians, Dakotahs, Brazilians ; and although
it is said to occur among the Fuegians, and characterizes some
of the Caribs, it is much less marked than their polygyny*
Contrariwise, though it is not a trait of peoples who rob one
another of their women, it is a trait of certain rude peoples
who are habitually peaceful There is polyandry among the
Esquimaux, who do not even know what war is. There is
polyandry among the Todas, who in no way aggress upon
their neighbours.

Other minor difficulties might be dwelt on. There is the.

618 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

fact that in many cases exogamy and endogamy co-exist ; as
among the Comanches, the New Zealanders, the Lepchas, the
Calif ornians. There is the fact that in sundry cases polygyny
and polyandry co-exist, as among the Fuegians, the Caribs,
the Esquimaux, the Waraus, the Hottentots, the ancient
Britons. There is the fact that there are some exogamous
tribes who have not the form of capture in marriage ; as the
Iroquois and the Ghippewas. But without dwelling on these,
I turn to certain cardinal difficulties, obvious a priori, which
appear to me insuperable.

§ 286. Setting out with primitive homogeneous groups,
Mr. M'Lennan contends that the scarcity of women caused
by destruction of female infants, compelled wife-stealing;
and he thinks that this happened " at a certain stage among
every race of mankind" (p. 138). The implication is, there-
fore, that a number of adjacent tribes, usually belonging to
the same variety of man in the same stage of progress, were
simultaneously thus led to rob one another. But immediately
we think of wife-stealing as a practice not of one tribe only,
but of many tribes forming a cluster, there presents itself
the question — How was the scarcity of wives thus remedied ?
If each tribe had fewer women than men, how could the
tribes get wived by taking one another's women ? The scarcity
remained the same : what one tribe got another lost Sup-
posing there is a chronic deficiency of women and the tribes
rob one another equally, the result must be decreasing popu-
lation in all the tribes. If some, robbing others in excess,
get enough wives, and leave certain of the rest with very few,
these must tend towards extinction. And if the surviving
tribes carry on the process, there appears no limit until the
strongest tribe, continuing to supply itself with women from
the less strong, finally alone survives and has no tribes to
rob.

Should it be replied that female infanticide is usually not
carried so far as to make the aggregate number of wives

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY. 619

insufficient to maintain the population of all the tribes taken
together — should it be said that only exceptional tribes rear
so few women as not to have mothers enough to produce the
next generation ; then we are met by a still greater diffi-
culty. If in each of the exogamous tribes forming the
sujfposed cluster, the men are forbidden to marry women of
their own tribe, and must steal women from other tribes ;
the implication is that each tribe knowingly rears wives for
neighbouring tribes, but not for itself. Though each tribe
kills many of its female infants that it may not be at the cost
of rearing them for its own benefit, yet it deliberately rears
the remainder for the benefit of its enemies. Surely this is
an inadmissible supposition. Where the interdict against
marrying women within the tribe is peremptory, the preser-
vation of girls must be useless — worse than useless, indeed,
since adjacent hostile tribes, to whom they must go as wives,
will thereby be strengthened. And as all the tribes, living
under like interdicts, will have like motives, they will all of
them cease to rear female infants.

Manifestly, then, exogamy in its original form, can never
have been anything like absolute among the tribes forming a
cluster ; but can have been the law in some of them only.

§ 287. In his concluding chapter, Mr. M'Lennan says that
"on the whole, the account which we have given of the
origin of exogamy, appears the only one which will bear
examination." (p. 289.) It seems to me, however, that set-
ting out with the postulate laid down by him, that primitive
groups of men are habitually hostile, we may, on asking what
are the concomitants of war, be led to a different theory, open
to none of the objections above raised.

In all times and places, among savage and civilized,
victory is followed by pillage: Whatever portable things of
worth the conquerors find, they take. The enemies of the
Fuegians plunder them of their dogs and arms; pastoral
tribes in Africa have their cattle driven away by victorious

620 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

marauders ; and peoples more advanced are robbed of their
money, ornaments, and all valuable things that are not too
heavy. The taking of women is but a part of this process of
spoiling the vanquished. Women are prized as wives, as
concubines, as drudges ; and, the men having been killed,
the women are carried off along with other moveables.
Everywhere among the uncivilized we find this. * In Samoa,
in dividing the spoil of a conquered people, the women were
not killed, but taken as wives." On an Australian being told
that certain travellers had shot some natives of another tribe,
his only remark was : — " Stupid whitefellows ! why did you
not bring away the gins ?w And P. Martyr Anglerius says
that among the cannibal Caribs in his day, " to eat women
was considered unlawful . . . Those who were captured
young were kept for breeding, as we keep fowl, etc." Early
legends of the semi-civilized show us the same thing; as
in the Iliad, where we read that the Greeks plundered " the
sacred city of Eetion," and that part of the spoils "they
divided among themselves n were the women. And there
need no examples to recall the fact that in later and more
civilized times, successes in battle have been followed by
transactions allied in character, if not the same in form.
Clearly, from the beginning down to comparatively late stages,
women-stealing has been an iruideni of successful war.

Observe, next, that the spoils of conquest, some of them
prized for themselves, are some of them prized as trophies.
Proofs of prowess are above all things treasured by the
savage. He brings back his enemy's scalp, like the North
American Indian. He dries and preserves his enemy's head,
like the New Zealander. He fringes his robe with locks of
hair cut from his slain foe. Among other signs of success in
battle is the return with a woman of the vanquished tribe.
Beyond her intrinsic value she has an extrinsic value. Like
a native wife she serves as a slave ; but unlike a native wife
she serves also as a trophy. As, then, among savages,
warriors are the honoured members of the tribe— as, among

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY. 621

warriors, the most honoured are those whose bravery is best
shown by achievements ; the possession of a wife taken in
war becomes a badge of social distinction. Hence members
of the tribe thus married to foreign women, are held to be
more honourably married than those married to native
women. What must result ?

In a tribe not habitually at war, or not habitually suc-
cessful in war, no decided effect is likely to be produced
on the marriage customs. If the great majority of the men
have native wives, the presence of a few whose superiority is
shown by having foreign wives, will fail to change the prac-
tice of taking native wives: the majority will keep one
another in countenance. But if the tribe, becoming suc-
cessful in war, robs adjacent tribes of their women more
frequently, there will grow up the idea that the now-con-
siderable class having foreign wives form the honourable
elass, and that those who have not proved their bravery by
bringing back these living trophies are dishonourable : non-
possession of a foreign wife will come to be regarded as a
proof of cowardice. An increasing ambition to get foreign
wives will therefore arise ; and as the number of those who
are without them decreases, the brand of disgrace attaching
to them will grow more decided ; until, in the most warlike
tribes, it becomes an imperative requirement that a wife shall
be obtained from another tribe — if not in open war, then by
private abduction.

A few facts showing that by savages proofs of courage ere
often required as qualifications for marriage, will carry home
this conclusion. Herndon tells us that among the Mahu&, a
man cannot take a wife until he has submitted to severe
torture. Bates, speaking of the Passes on the Upper
Amazons, says that formerly " the young men earned their
brides by valiant deeds in war." Before he is allowed to
marry, a young Dyak must prove his bravery by bringing
back the head of an enemy. When the Apaches warriors
return unsuccessful, " the women turn away from them with

€22 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

assured indifference and contempt They are upbraided as
cowards, or for want of skill and tact, and are told that such
men should not have wives." That among other results of
sentiments thus exemplified, abduction of women will be
one, is obvious ; for a man who, denied a wife till he has
proved his courage, steals one, satisfies his want and achieves
reputation at the same time. If, as we see, the test of
deserving a wife is in some cases obtainment of a trophy,
what more natural than that the trophy should often be the
stolen wife herself? What more natural than that where
many warriors of the tribe are distinguished by stolen wives,
the stealing of a wife should become the required proof of
fitness to have one ? Hence would follow a peremptory law
of exogamy.

In so far as it implies that usage grows into law, this
interpretation agrees with that of Mr. M'Lennan. It does
not, however, like his, assume either that this usage origin-
ated in a primordial instinct, or that it resulted from
scarcity of women caused by infanticide. Moreover, unlike
Mr. M'Lennan's, the explanation so reached is consistent
with the fact that exogamy and endogamy in many cases co-
exist ; and with the fact that exogamy often co-exists with
polygyny. Further, it does not involve us in the difficulty
raised by supposing a peremptory law of exogamy to be
obeyed throughout a cluster of tribes.

§ 288. But can the great prevalence of the form of cap-
ture in marriage ceremonies be thus accounted for? Mr.
M'Lennan believes that wherever this form is now found,
complete exogamy once prevailed. Examination will, I
think, show that the implication is not necessary. There
are several ways in which the form of capture arises; or
rather, let us say, it has several conspiring causes.

If, as we have seen, there still exist rude tribes in which
men fight for possession of women, the taking possession of a
woman naturally comes as a sequence to an act of capture.

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY. 623

That monopoly which constitutes her a wife in the only
sense known by the primitive man, is a result of successful
violence. Thus the form may originate from actual capture
within the tribe, instead of originating from actual capture
without it

Beyond that resistance to a man's seizure of a woman,
apt to be made by other men within the tribe, there is the
resistance of the woman herself. Sir John Lubbock holds
that coyness is not an adequate cause for the establish-
ment of the form of capture ; and it may be that, taken
alone, it does not suffice to account for everything. But there
are reasons for thinking it an important factor. Crantz says
concerning the Esquimaux, that when a damsel is asked in
marriage, she—

M directly falls into the greatest apparent consternation, and runs out of
doors tearing her bunch of hair ; for single women always affect the
utmost bashf ulness and aversion to any proposal of marriage, lest they
should lose their reputation for modesty.1'

Like behaviour is shown by Bushmen girls. When —

*' a girl has grown up to womanhood without haying previously been
betrothed, her lover must gain her own approbation, as well as that of
the parents ; and on this occasion his attentions are received with an
affectation of great alarm and disinclination on her part, and with
some squabbling on the part of her friends.0

Again, among the Sinai Arabs, says Burckhardt, a bride —

** defends herself with stones, and often inflicts wounds on the young
men, even though she does not dislike the lover ; for, according to
custom, the more she struggles, bites, kicks, cries, and strikes, the more
she is applauded ever after by her own companions." . . . During
the procession to the husband's camp, " decency obliges her to cry and
sob most bitterly ."

Of the Muzos, Piedray ta narrates that after agreement with
the parents was made —

" the bridegroom came to see the bride, and stayed three days caress-
ing her, while she replied by beating him with her fists and with
sticks. After these three days she got tamer, and cooked his meals."
In these cases, then, coyness, either real or affected for repu-
tation's sake, causes resistance of the woman herself, in

624 DOMESTIC INSTITUTION&

other cases there is joined with this the resistance of her female
friends. We read of the Snmatran women that the bride
and the old matrons make it a point of honour to prevent (or
appear to prevent) the bridegroom from obtaining his bride.
On the occasion of a marriage among the Mapuch£s " the
women spring up en masse, and arming themselves with clubs,
stones, and missiles of all kinds, rush to the defence of the
distressed maiden. ... It is a point of honour with the bride
to resist and struggle, however willing she may be." And
once more, when a Kamschadale ''bridegroom obtains the
liberty of seizing his bride, he seeks every opportunity of
finding her alone, or in company of a few people, for during
this time all the women in the village are obliged to protect
her."

Here we have proof that one origin of the form of capture
is feminine opposition — primarily of the woman herself, and
secondarily of female friends who sympathize with her.
Though the manners of the inferior races do not imply much
coyness, yet we cannot suppose coyness to be wholly absent
Hence that amount of it which exists, joined with that
further amount simulated, will make resistance, and conse-
quently an effort to capture, natural phenomena. Moreover,
since a savage makes his wife a slave, and treats her brutally,
she has an additional motive for resistance.

Not does forcible opposition proceed only from the girl
and her female friends : the male members of her family
also are likely to be opponents. A woman is of value not
only as a wife, but also as a daughter; and up from the
lowest to the highest stages of social progress, we find a tacit
or avowed claim to her services by her father. It is so even
with the degraded Fuegians : an equivalent in the shape of
service rendered, has to be given for her by the youth, " such
as helping to make a canoe." It is so with savages of more
advanced types all over the world : there is either the like
giving of stipulated work, or the giving of a price. And we
have evidence that it was originally so among ourselves: in

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY. 625

an action for seduction the deprivation of a daughter's
services is the injury alleged. Hence it is inferable that in
the rudest states, where claims, parental or other, are but
little regarded, the taking away of a daughter becomes the
occasion of a fight Facts support this conclusion. Of the
Mapuchfe, Smith says that when there is opposition of the
parents, "the neighbours are immediately summoned by
blowing the horn, and chase is given/9 Among the Gaiidors,
a tribe on the southern shores of the Caspian Sea, the bride-
groom must run away with his bride,, although he thereby
exposes himself to the vengeance of her parents, who„ if they
find him within three days, can lawfully put him to death.
A custom with the Gonds is that " a suitor usually carries
off the girl that is refused to. him by the parents."* Thus we
find a further natural cause for the practice of capture — a
cause which must have been common before social, usages-
were well established. Indeed, on reading that among the
Mapuch£s the man sometimes. " lays violent hands upon the:
damsel, and carries her off/' and that * in all such cases the
usual equivalent is afterwards, paid to- the girl's father/" we
may suspect that abduction, spite of parents, was the primary
form ; that there came next the making of compensation to
escape vengeance ; that this grew into the making of presents
beforehand ; and that, so resulted eventually the system of
purchase.

If, then, within a tribe there are three* sources- of opposi-
tion to the appropriation of a woman by a man, it cannot be
held that the form of capture is inexplicable unless we
assume the abduction of women from other tribes.

But even supposing it to have originated as Mr. M'Lennan
thinks, its survival as a marriage-ceremony would not prove
exogamy to have been the law. In a tribe containing many
warriors who had wives taken from enemies, and who, as
having captured their wives, were regarded as more honour-
ably married than the rest, there would result an ambition,
if not to capture a wife, still to seem to capture a wifa In

2 s

626 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

every society the inferior ape the superior; and customs
thus spread among classes the ancestors of which did not
follow them. The antique-looking portraits that decorate
a modern large house, by no means demonstrate the dis-
tinguished lineage of the owner; but often falsely suggest
a distinguished lineage. The coat of arms a wealthy man
bears, does not necessarily imply descent from men who
once had their shields and flags covered by such marks of
identity. The plumes on a hearse, do not prove that the
dead occupant had forefathers who wore knightly decorations.
And similarly, it does not follow that all the members of
tribes who go through the form of capturing their wives at
marriage, are descendants of men who in earlier days actually
captured their wives. Mr. M'Lennan himself points out
that, among sundry ancient peoples, captured wives were per-
mitted to the military class through not to other classes. If
we suppose a society formed of a ruling group of warriors,
originally the conquerors, who practised wife-capture, and
their subjects who could not practise it ; and if we ask what
would happen when such a society fell into more peaceful
relations with adjacent like societies, and obtained wives
from them no longer by force, but by purchase or other
friendly arrangement ; we may see that, in the first place,
the form of capture would replace the actuality of capture in
the marriages of the dominant class ; for, as Mr. M'Lennan
contends, adherence to ancestral usage would necessitate
the simulation of capture after actual capture had ceased.
And when, in the dominant class, wife-capture had thus
passed into a form, it would be imitated by the subject class
$b being the most honourable form. Such among the inferior
as had risen to superior social positions would first adopt it;
and they would gradually be followed by those below them.
So that, even were there none of the other probable origins
named above, a surviving form of capture in any society
would not show that society to have been exogamous ; but

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY, 627

would merely show that wife-capture waa in early times
practised by its leading men.

§ 289. And now, pursuing the argument, let us see
whether exogamy and endogamy are not simultaneously
accounted for as correlative results of the same differen-
tiating process. Setting out with a state in which the
relations of the sexes were indefinite, variable, and deter-
mined by the passions and circumstances of the occasion,
we have to explain how exogamy and endogamy became
established, the one here, the other there, as consequences
of surrounding conditions. The efficient conditions were the
relations to other tribes, now peaceful but usually hostile,
some of them strong and some of them weak.

Necessarily, a primitive group habitually at peace with
neighbouring groups, must be endogamous; for the taking
of women from another tribe is either a sequence of open
war, or is an act of private war which brings on open war.
Pure endogamy, however, resulting in this manner, is pro-
. bably rare ; since the hostility of tribes is almost universal.
But endogamy is likely to characterize not peaceful groups
alone, but also groups habitually worsted in war. An
occasional abducted woman taken in reprisal, will not suffice
to establish in a weak tribe any precedent for wife-capture ;
but, contrariwise, a member of such a tribe who carries off
a woman, and so provokes the vengeance of a stronger tribe
robbed, is likely to meet with general reprobation.* Hence
marrying within the tribe will not only be habitual, but

• After the above sentence wu written, I came, by a happy coincidence,
upon a yerifying fact, in Life in the Southern Isles, by the Ber. W. W.
GUI (p. 47). A man belonging to one of the tribes in Mangaia stole food
from an adjacent tribe. This adjacent tribe avenged itself by destroying
the houses, etc., of the thief's tribe. Thereupon the thief's tribe, angry
because of the mischief thus brought on them, killed the thief. If this hap-
- pened with a stealer of food, still more would it happen with a stealer of
women! when the tribe robbed was the more powerful.

2 82

628 . DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

there will arise a prejudice, and eventually a law, against
taking wives from other tribes: the needs of self-preserva-
tion will make the tribe endogamous. This interpretation
harmonizes with the fact, admitted by Mr. M'Lennan, that
the endogamous tribes are as numerous as the exogamous ;
and also with the fact he admits, that in sundry cases
the tribes forming a cluster, allied by blood and language,
are some of them exogamous and some endogamous.

It is to be inferred that among tribes not differing much
in strength, there will be continual aggressions and reprisals*
often accompanied by abductions of women. No one of them
will be able to supply itself with wives entirely at the ex-
pense of adjacent tribes ; and hence, in each of them, there
will be both native wives and wives taken from other tribes :
there will be both exogamy and endogamy. Stealing of wives
will not be reprobated, because the tribes robbed are not too
strong to be defied ; and it will not be insisted on, because
the men who have stolen wives will not be numerous enough
to determine the average opinion* If, however, in

a cluster of tribes one gains predominance by frequent suc-
cesses in war — if the men in it who have stolen wives form
the larger number— if possession of a stolen wife becomes a
mark of that bravery without which a man is not worthy of
a wife ; then the discreditableness of marrying within the
tribe, growing into disgracefulness, will end in a peremptory
requirement to get a wife from another tribe — if not in open
war, then by private theft: the tribe will become exoga-
mous. - A sequence may be traced. The exogamous
tribe thus arising, and growing while it causes adjacent
tribes to dwindle by robbing them, will presently divide ; and
its sections, usurping the habitats of adjacent tribes, will
carry with them the established exogamous habit. When,
presently becoming hostile, these diverging sub-tribes begin
to rob one another of women, there will arise conditions con-
ducive to that internal exogamy which Mr. M'Lennan
supposes, rightly I think, to replace external exogamy. For

EXOGAMY AND ENDOGAMY. 629

• *

.unless we assume that in a cluster of tribes, each undertakes
to rear women for adjacent tribes to steal, we must conclude
that the exogamous requirement will be met in a qualified
manner. Wives born within the tribe but foreign by blood,
will, under pressure of the difficulty, be considered allowable
instead of actually stolen wives. And thus, indeed, that kin-
ship in the female line which primitive irregularity in the
relations of the sexes originates, will become established, even
though male parenthood is known ; since this interpretation
of kinship will make possible the conformity to a law of
cannubium that could not otherwise be obeyed.

§ 290. Nothing of much importance is to be said respecting
exogamy and endogamy in their bearings ou social life.

Exogamy in its primitive form is clearly an accompaniment
of the lowest barbarism; and it decreases as the hostility of
societies becomes less constant, and the usages of war miti-
gated. That the implied crossing of tribal stocks, where these
tribal stocks are very small, may be advantageous, physiologi-
cally, is true ; and exogamy may so secure a benefit which at
a later stage is secured by the mingling of conquering and
conquered tribes ; though none who bear in mind the thought-
lessness of savages and their utter ignorance of natural causa-
tion even in its simple forms, will suppose such a benefit to
have been contemplated. But the exogamous custom as at
first established, implies an extremely abject condition of
women ; a brutal treatment of them ; an entire absence of
the higher sentiments that accompany the relations of the
sexes. Associated with the lowest type of political life, it is
also associated with the lowest type of domestic life.

Evidently endogamy, which at the outset must have cha-
racterized the more peaceful groups, and which has prevailed
as societies have become less hostile, is a concomitant of the
higher forms of the family.

[The above chapter, written before the middle of Sep-

630 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

tember, 1876, I kept standing in type for several weeks:

being deterred from printing by the announcement that a

second edition of Mr. M'Lennan's work was coming out,

and by the thought that perhaps amendments contained in

it might entail modifications of my criticisms. In the preface

to this new edition he said :—

u Though I am again free to resume the studies necessary for its
revision, it is uncertain whether I could soon revise it in a satisfactory
manner — so that I am without an answer to representations made to
me, that it is better it should be made accessible to students with its
imperfections than that it should remain inaccessible to them. I have
done this the more readily that, on the whole, I still adhere to the con-
clusions I had arrived at more than eleven years ago, on the various
matters which are discussed in 'Primitive Marriage. ' n

I therefore sent the foregoing pages to press unaltered. The
quotations are, as mentioned before, from the first edition, the
paging of which does not correspond with that of the second]

CHAPTEB V.

PROMISCUITY.

§ 291. Already, in the chapter on " The Primitive Rela-
tions of the Sexes/1 illustrations have been given of the in*
definiteness and inconstancy of the connexions between men
and women in low societies. The wills of the stronger,
unchecked by political restraints, unguided by moral senti-
ments, determine all behaviour. Forcibly taking women
from one another, men recognize no tie between the sexes
save that which might establishes and liking maintains. To
the instances there given others may be added, showing that
at first, marriage, as we understand it, hardly exists.

Poole says of the Haidahs that the women " cohabit almost
promiscuously with their own tribe, though rarely with other
tribes." The Hill-tribes of the Piney Hills, Madura dis-
trict, have very few restrictions on promiscuous intercourse.
Captain Harkness writes : — " They [two Erulars of the Neil-
gherry Hills] informed us that the Erulars have no marriage
contract, the sexes cohabiting almost indiscriminately; the
option of remaining in union or of separating resting princi-
pally with the female." Of another Indian people, the
Teehura, it is said that they M live together almost indiscrimi-
nately in large communities, and even when two people are
regarded as married the tie is but nominal" And according
to a Brahmin sepoy who lived more than a year with the
Andamanesc, promiscuity is so far sanctioned among them by

r^

632 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

public opinion, that a man who is refused by an unmarried
woman "considers himself insulted/' and sometimes takes
summary vengeance.

As shown by instances before given, this state of things is
in many low tribes very little qualified by such form of
union as stands for marriage ; which sometimes has not even
a name. Temporary fancies determine the connexions and
mere whims dissolve them. What is said of the Mantras,
who marry without acquaintance and divorce for trifles, and
among whom some men marry w forty or fifty n times, may
be taken as typical

§ 292. Facts of this kind are thought by several writers to
imply that the primitive condition was one of absolute
hetairism. Complete promiscuity is held to have been not
simply the practice but in some sort the law. Indeed, the
name a communal marriage '* has been proposed by Sir John
Lubbock for this earliest phase of the sexual relations, as
implying recognized rights and bonds. But I do not think
the evidence shows that promiscuity ever existed in an un-
qualified form ; and it appears to me that even had it so existed,
the name "communal marriage" would not convey a true
conception of it.

As before contended, the initial social state must have
been one in which there were no social laws. Social laws
presuppose continued social existence ; and continued social
existence presupposes reproduction through successive gene-
rations. Hence there could, at first, have been no such social
law as that of " communal marriage, "tf here every man and
woman in a small community were regarded as equally mar-
ried to one another" — there could have been no conception
ef " communal marriage rights.'' The words " marriage " and
" rights " as applied to such a state have, it seems to me, mis-
leading connotations. Each implies a claim and a limitation.
If the claim is co-extensive with the members of the tribe,
tfeen the only limitation must be one excluding members of

PROMISCUITY. ;033

other tribes ; and it cannot, I think, be said that the idea of
marriage within a tribe is generated by the negation of the
claims of those belonging to other tribes. But passing

over the terminology, let us consider the essential question
raised — whether what we may call tribal monopoly of its
women, regarded as a common possession held, against other
tribes, preceded individual monopoly within the tribe. Sir
John Lubbock considers that absence of individual marital
possession went along with absence of individual possession
generally. While the notion of private ownership of other
things did not exist, there did not exist the notion of private
ownership of women. Just as in the earliest stages the
tribal territory was common property, so, too, he thinks, were
the women of the tribe common property ; and he thinks that
private ownership of women was established only by stealing
them from other tribes : women so obtained being recognized
as belonging . to their captors. But while admitting that
development of the conception of property in general, has had
much to do with development of the marital relation, it is
quite possible to dissent from the belief that the conception
of property was ever so undeveloped as Sir John Lubbock's
conclusion implies. It is true that the idea of tribal owner-
ship of territory may be compared to that of many animals,
solitary and gregarious, which drive trespassers away from
their lairs or habitats : even the swans on each reach of the
Thames resist invading swans from other reaches ; and the
public dogs in each quarter of Constantinople attack dogs
from other quarters if they encroach. It is true, also, that
generally among savages there is a certain community of pro*
perty in the game captured ; though not an unqualified com-
munity. But the reason for all this is clear. Land is jointly
held by hunters because it cannot be otherwise held ; and
joint claims to the food it produces are involved. To infer
that there is not in the earliest state a recognition of indi-
vidual property in other things, is, I think, going further than
either the probabilities or the facts warrant. The dog shows

1

C34 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

118 some notion of ownership — will not only fight for the prey
he ha* caught, or for his kennel, but will keep guard over
his master's belongings. We cannot suppose that man in his
rudest state had less notion of ownership than this. We
must suppose he had more ; and our supposition is justified
by evidence. Habitually savages individually own their
weapons and implements, their decorations, their dresses.
Even among the degraded Fuegians there is private property
in canoes. Indeed, the very idea of prospective advantage
which leads an intelligent being to take possession of, or to
make, any useful thing, is an idea which leads him to resist
the abstraction of it Generally, possession is not interfered
with, because the thing is not worth the risk of a fight; and
even where, after resistance, it is taken by another, still it
comes to be held by that other individually. The impulses
which lead primitive men thus to monopolize other objects
of value, mast lead them to monopolize women. There must
private ownerships of women, ignored only by the
:, who establish other private ownerships.
And this conclusion seems the one supported by the facts.
Everywhere promiscuity, however marked, is qualified by
unions having some persistence. If, in the various cases
before named, as also among the Aleutian Islanders and the
Eutchins of North America, the Badagas, Kurumbahs and
Keriahs of India, the Hottentots and various other peoples
of Africa, there is no marriage ceremony; we have, in the
very statement, an implication that there is something having
the nature of marriage. If, as with the North American
tribes generally, " nothing more than the personal consent of
the parties/' unsanctioned and unwitnessed, occurs ; still some
kind of union is alleged, If, as among the Bushmen and the
Indians of California, there is no word signifying this rela-
tion between the sexes ; still there is evidence that the relation
is known* If among such peoples as the Teehurs of Oude,
the promiscuity is such that "even when two people are
segardefl as married the tie is but nominal ;" still, jsome " are

PROMISCUITY. 635

regarded as married." The very lowest races now existing —
Fuegians, Australians, Andauianese — show us that, however
informally they may originate, sexual relations of a more or
less enduring kind exist ; and I do not see reasons for con-
cluding that in social groups lower than these, there was no
individual possession of women by men. We must infer
that even in prehistoric times, promiscuity was checked by
the establishment of individual connexions, prompted by
men's likings and maintained against other men by force.

§ 293. Admitting, however, that in the earliest stages
promiscuity was but in a small degree thus qualified, let us
note, first, the resulting ideas of kinship.

Causes direct and indirect, will conspire to produce recog-
nition of relationship in the female line only. If promis-
cuity is extensive, and if there are more children born to
unknown fathers than to known fathers, then as the con-
nexion between mother and child is obvious in all cases,
while that between father and child is inferable only in some
cases, there must arise a habit of thinking of maternal kin-
ship rather than of paternal. Hence, even in that nrinoiity
of cases where paternity is mua&et, AiHwwi will be thought
of and spoken of in the same way. Among ourselves
common speech habitually indicates a boy as Mr. So-and-so's
son, though descent from his mother is as fully recognized ;
and a converse usage,, caused by prevailing promiscuity
among savages, will lead to the speaking of a child as the
mother's child, even when the father is known,

A further influence helps to establish this practice.
Though we conclude that promiscuity is in all cases quali-
fied by unions having some duration, yet we find that in the
lowest stages, as among the Andamanese, each of these
unions ends when a child is weaned : the result being that
thereafter, association of the child with its father ceases*
while association with its mother continues. Consequently,
even when there is acknowledged paternity, the child will La

*G36 DOMESTIC IKSTTTUTIONS.

mostly thought of in connexion with its mother; confirming
the habit otherwise caused.

This habit haying arisen, the resulting recognition of rela-
tionship in the female line only, will, as we have seen, be
strengthened by the practice of exogamy when passing from
the external to the internal form. The requirement that
a wife shall be taken from a foreign tribe, readily becomes
confounded with the requirement that a wife shall be of
foreign blood. If maternal descent alone is recognized, the
daughters of foreign women within the tribe will, as Mr.
M'Lennan argues, be rendered available as wives under tbe
law of exogamy ; and the custom of so regarding them will
be strengthened by making fulfilment of this law possible,
when otherwise fulfilment would be impossible. A settled
system of kinship through females, and interdict against
marriage with those having the same family name, or belong-
ing to the same clan, will result.

. Instances collected by Mr. M'Lennan and Sir John Lub-
bock, show that this system "prevails throughout Western
and Eastern Africa, in Circassia, Hindostan, Tartary, Siberia,
China, and Australia, as well as in North and South America."
For interpreting it in the above manner there are some
additional reasons. One is that we are not obliged to make
the startling assumption that male parentage was at first
entirely unperceived. A second is that we escape an incon-
sistency. Male parentage is habitually known, though disre*
garded, where the system of kinship in the female line now
obtains ; for not only in the lowest races are there unions
persistent enough to make male parentage manifest, but the
very statement that female kinship is fclone counted, cannot
be made by these races without implying a consciousness of
male kinship : nay, indeed, have not these races, down to the
very lowest, always a word for father as well as a word for
mother ? And a third is that commonly the names of the clans
which are forbidden to intermarry, such as Wolf, Bear, Eagle
etc., are names given to men; implying, as I have before

PROMISCUITY. 637

contended (§ 170-3) descent from distinguished male ancestors
bearing those names-— descent which, notwithstanding the
system of female kinship, was remembered where there was
pride in the connexion.*

§ 294. From the effects of unregulated relations of the sexes
on the system of formally-recognized kinship, in pursuing
which I have diverged somewhat from the immediate topic, let
us now pass to the effects on the society and its individuals.

In proportion to the prevalence of promiscuity, there must
be paucity and feebleness of relationships. Besides having
no known male parents, the children of each mother are less
connected with one another. They are only half-brothers
and half-sisters. Family bonds, therefore, are not only weak
but cannot spread far ; and this implies defect of cohesion
among members of the society. Though they have some
common interests, with some vague notion of general kinship,
there lacks that element of strength arising from the inte-
rests within groups distinctly related by blood. At the same
time, establishment of subordination is hindered. Nothing
beyond temporary predominance of the stronger is likely to
arise in the absence of definite descent: there can be no
settled political control For the like reason the growth of
ancestor-worship, and of the religious bonds resulting from it,
are impeded. Thus in several ways indefinite sexual rela-
tions hinder social self-preservation and social evolution.

• I may add here a conclusive proof that avowed recognition of kinship in
the female line only, by no means showi an unconsciousness of male kinship.
This proof is furnished by that converse custom which some ancient Aryans
had of recognising relationship through males, and ignoring relationship
through females. When Orestes, after killing his mother for murdering his
father, was absolved on the ground urged by him, that a man is related to
his father and not to his mother, undeniable evidence was given that an
established doctrine of kinship may disregard a connexion which is obvious
to ail — more obvious than any other. And if it cannot be supposed that an
actual unconsciousness of motherhood was associated with this system of
exclusive kinship through males among the Greeks ; then there is no warrant
for the supposition that actual unconsciousness of fatherhood is associated * ith
the system of exclusive kinship through females among savages.

638 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

Their unfavourableness to the welfare of offspring scarcely
needs pointing out. Where paternity is not recognized,
children must depend almost wholly on maternal care.
Among savages, exposed as they are to great privations, the
rearing of children is in all cases difficult; and it must be
more difficult where the mother is unaided by the father.
So too is it, if in a smaller degree, with the progeny of brief
marriages, such as those of the Andamanese, whose custom it
is for a man and wife to part when a child born to them
is weaned. Often the child must die from lacking adequate
support and protection, which the mother alone cannot give.
No doubt, under such conditions, miscellaneous help is
given. Indeed, the Andamanese women are said to aid one
another in suckling ; and probably food and other things are
furnished by the men : the child becomes, in a measure, the
child of the tribe. But indefinite tribal care can but partially
replace definite paternal care. How unfavourable to the
maintenance of population are these unregulated relations of
the sexes, we have, indeed, direct evidence. A recent
reporter, Mr. Francis Day, & surgeon, says that the Andam-
anese appear to be dying out. He saw but one woman who
had as many as three living children. During a year,
thirty-eight deaths were reported and only fourteen births,
among the families living near the European settlements.

Turning from progeny to parents, it is clear that to them
also the absence of persistent marital relations is very inju-
rious. Maintenance of the race, in so far as it is effected, is
effected at excessive cost to the women ; and though the men
may not suffer directly, they suffer indirectly. After maturity
is past, there come the privations of an early decline unmiti-
gated by domestic assistance. Mr. Day says of the Andam-
anese that few appear to live to a greater age than forty; and
they are subject to various diseases. Absence of those higher
gratifications accompanying developed family life, is also to be
noted as a concomitant evil.

Irregular relations of the sexes are thus at variance with

PBOMISCUITY, 639

the welfare of the society, of the young, and of the adults.
We before saw that in all respects the traits of the primitive
man — physical, emotional, intellectual — are immense hin-
drances to social evolution ; and here we see that his lack of
those sentiments which lead to permanent marriages, consti*
tutes a further hindrance,

§ 295. Out of this lowest state, however, there tend to
arise higher states. In two ways do groups thus loose in
their spxual relations, evolve into groups having sexual rela-
tions of more definite kinds.

If, as we concluded, prevailing promiscuity was from the
first accompanied by unions having some duration — if, as we
jnay infer, the progeny of such unions were more likely to be
reared, and more likely to be vigorous, than the rest ; then
the average result must have been multiplication and pre-r
dominance of individuals derived from such unions. And
bearing in mind that among these there would be inherited,
natures leaning towards such unions more than other natures
leaned, we must infer that there would, from generation to
generation, be an increasing tendency to such unions along
certain lines of descent,, Where they favoured race-mainte-
nance, survival of the fittest would further the establishment
of them, I say advisedly — where they favoured race-maita
tenance ; because it is conceivable that in very barren habitats
they might not do this. Sexual relations conducive to the
rearing of many children would be of no advantage : the food
would not suffice. It may be, too, that in very inclement
habitats more careful nurture would be useless ; since where
the hardships to be borne in adult life were extreme, the
raising of children that could not bear them would not help
to preserve the society — nay, by wasting food and effort
might prove detrimental. The ability of a child to survive
with no care beyond that which its mother can give, may in
some circumstances be a test of fitness for the life to be led.
But save in such extreme cases, the favourable effects on

640 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

offspring must tend to establish in a social group, persistent
relations of the sexes.

The struggle for existence "between societies conduces to
the same effect Subject to the foregoing limitation, what-
ever increases the power of a tribe, either in number or in
vigour, gives it an advantage in war; so that other things
equal, societies characterized by sexual relations which are
the least irregular, will be the most likely to conquer. I say
other things equal, because co-operating causes interfere.
Success in battle does not depend wholly on relative num-
bers or relative strengths. There come into play courage,
endurance, swiftness, agility, skill in the use of weapons.
Though otherwise inferior, a tribe may conquer by the quick-
ness of its members in tracking enemies, by cunning in
ambush, etc. Moreover, if among a number of adjacent
tribes there are no great differences in degrees of promis-
cuity, conflicts among them cannot tend to establish higher
sexual relations. Hence, only an occasional effect can be
produced ; and we may anticipate that which the facts indi-
cate— a slow and very irregular diminution. In some cases,
too, profusion of food and favourable climate, may render less
important the advantage which the offspring of regular sexual
delations have over those of irregular ones. And this may be
the reason why in a place like Tahiti, where life is so easily
Maintained and children so easily reared, great sexual irregu-
larity was found to co- exist with large population and con-
siderable social advance.

As, however, under ordinary conditions the rearing of
more numerous and stronger offspring must have been
favoured by more regular sexual relations, there must, on
the average, have been a tendency for the societies most
characterized by promiscuity to disappear before those less
characterized by it

§ 296. Considering the facts from the evolution point of
view, we see that at first the domestic relations are but

PK0M1SCU1TY, 641

.little more developed than the political relations: incohe-
rence and indefiniteness characterize both,

From this primitive stage, domestic evolution takes place
in several directions by increase of coherence and definite-*
ness. Connexions of a more or less enduring kind are in
some cases formed between one woman and several men. In
some cases, and very commonly, enduring connexions are
formed between one man and several women. Such relations
co-exist in the same tribe, or they characterize different
tribes ; and along with them there usually co-exist relations
between individual men $nd individual women. The evi-
dence implies that all these marital forms by which pro-
miscuity is restricted, have equally early origins.

The different types of the family thus initiated, have now
to be considered. We will take them in the above order,

2 T

CHAPTER VL

POLYANDRY,

§ 297. Promiscuity may be called indefinite polyandry
joined with indefinite polygyny; and one mode of advance
is by a diminution of the indefiniteness.

Concerning the Fuegians, Admiral Fitzroy says: — "We
had some reason to think there were parties who lived in a
promiscuous manner — a few women being with many men :"
a condition which may be regarded as promiscuity to a
slight degree limited. But not dwelling on this doubtfully-
made statement, let us pass to positive statements concerning
what may be described as definite polyandry joined with defi-
nite polygyny. Of the Todas, we are told by Shortt that —

" If there be four or five brothers, and one of them, being old enough,
gets married, his wife claims all the other brothers as her husbands,
and as they successively attain manhood, she consorts with them ; or if
the wife has one or more younger sisters, they in turn, on attaining a
marriageable age, become the wives of their sister's husband or hus-
bands, and thus in a family of several brothers, there may be, accord-
ing to circumstances, only one wife for them all, or many ; but, one or
more, they all live under one roof, and cohabit promiscuously."

Akin to this arrangement, though differing in the respect

that the husbands are not brothers, is that which exists

among the Nairs. From several authorities Mr. M'Lennan

takes the statements that —

" It is the custom for one woman ' to have attached to her two males,
or four, or perhaps more, and they cohabit according to rules.' With

POLYANDRY. 643

Ibis account that of Hamilton agrees, excepting that he states that a
Kair woman could have no more than twelve husbands, and had to
select these ander certain restrictions as to rank and caste. On the
other hand, Buchanan states that the women after marriage are free to
cohabit with any number of men, under certain restrictions as to tribe
and caste. It is consistent with the three accounts, and is directly
stated by Hamilton, that a Nair may be one in several combinations
of husbands."

Here then, along with polyandry to some extent defined,
there goes polygyny, also to some extent defined. And
with the semi-civilized Tahitians, one of the several forms
of sexual relations was akin to this. "If the rank of the
wife was in any degree superior to that of her husband she
was at liberty to take as many other husbands as she pleased ;"
though still nominally the wife of the first husband.

From these forms of the family, if the word may be ex-
tended to them, in which polyandry and polygyny are united,
we pass to those forms which come under the head of poly-
andry proper. In one of them the husbands are not related ;
in the other they are akin, and usually brothers.

§ 298. Already we have seen that polyandrous households,
apparently of the ruder sort, occur in tribes having also poly-
gynous households: the Caribs, the Esquimaux, and the
Wazaus, having been instanced* Another case is furnished
by the Aleutian Islanders, who are polygynists, but among
whom, a "woman may enter into a double marriage, inas-
much as she has a right to take " an additional husband. The
aborigines of the Canary Islands practised polyandry, pro-
bably not fraternal. When the Spaniards arrived at Lance-
rota, they found "a very singular custom. ... A woman
had several husbands. . . . A husband was considered as such
only during a lunar revolution." And to these cases of the
ruder polyandry which I find among my own data, I may
add others given by Mr. M'Lennan. He names the Kasias
and the Saporogian Cossaks as exemplifying it

Of the higher form of polyandry many instances occur:

2 T 2

<> 44 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS,

sometimes co-existing in the same society with the lower
form, and sometimes existing alone. Tennent tells us that—
"Polyandry prevails throughout the interior of Ceylon, chiefly
amongst the wealthier classes; of whom, one woman has frequently
three or four husbands, and sometimes as many as seven. ... As a
general rule the husbands are members of the same family, and most
frequently brothers."

Of other peoples definitely stated to practise this kind of poly-
andry, Mr. M'Lennan enumerates, in America the Avaroes
and the Maypures, and in Asia the inhabitants of Kashmir,
Ladak, Kinawer, Kistewar, and Sirmor. In the remote past
it existed where it is not known now. Bastian quotes Strabo
as saying of the tribes of Arabia Felix that men of the same
family married one wife in common. In an ancient Hindu
epic, the MahMhdrata, a princess is described as married to
five brothers. And, according to Caesar, there was fraternal
polyandry among the ancient Britons,

§ 299. What are we to say about the origin and develop-
ment of this type of the domestic relations ?

As before contended, facts do not support the belief that
it arose from female infanticide and consequent scarcity of
women. We saw that it does not prevail where wife-stealing,
said also to result from scarcity of women, is habitual ; but
that in such cases polygyny is more usuaL We also saw that
its frequent co-existence with polygyny negatives the belief
that it is due to excess of males. True, of the Todas we read
that owing " to the great scarcity of women in this tribe, it
more frequently happens that a single woman is wife to
several husbands/' But against this may be set such a case
as that of Tahiti, where we have no reason to believe that
women were scarce, and where the polyandry which was
associated with polygyny, went along with other loose sexual
relations — where " brothers, or members of the same family,
sometimes exchanged their wives, while the wife of every
individual was also the wife of his taio or friend."

Nor can we, I think, ascribe it to poverty ; though poverty

rOLYANDItY* 645

may, in some ciises, be the cause of its continuance and
spread. It is general in some communities which are rela-
tively well off; and though in some cases distinctive of the
poorer classes, it is in other cases the reverse. As above
quoted, Tennent teUs us that in Ceylon polyandry prevails
" chiefly among the wealthier classes ;" implying that as,
among the poorer classes each man has commonly one wife,
if not more, the cause there is neither lack of women for
wives, nor lack of ability to maintain wives.

We must rather, in pursuance of conclusions already drawn,
regard polyandry as one of the kinds of marital relations
emerging from the primitive unregulated state; and one
which has survived where competing kinds, not favoured by
the conditions, have failed to extinguish it

§ 300. When from that form of polyandry, little above pro-
miscuity, in which one wife has several unrelated husbands
and each of the husbands has other unrelated wives, we pass
to that form in which the unrelated husbands have but one
wife, thence to the form in which the husbands are related,
and finally to the form in which they are brothers only ; we
trace an advance in family structure. Already I have re-
ferred to Mr. M'Lennan's indication of the different results.

Where, as among the Nairs, each woman has several un-
related husbands, and each husband has several unrelated
wives, not only is the paternal blood of the offspring unknown,
but children of each man commonly exist in several house-
holds. Besides the fact that the only known kinship is
through the woman, there is the fact that each man's domestic
interest, not limited to a particular group of children, is lost
by dissipation. Maternal parenthood alone being conccn
trated and paternal parenthood diffused, the family bonds are
but little stronger than those accompanying promiscuity.
Besides his mother, a man's only known relations are his
half-brothers and half-sisters and the children of bis half-
sisters.

646 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

Where the unrelated husbands are limited to one wife, and
where their children, though they cannot be affiliated upon
their fathers individually, form a single domestic group, there
is some sphere for the paternal feelings. Each husband has
an interest in the offspring, some of whom may be, and pro-
bably are, his own: occasionally, indeed, being severally
attributed to each by likeness, or by their mother's statement
Though the positively-known relationships remain the same
as in the last case, yet there is some advance in the formation
of domestic groups.

And then, as Mr. M'Lennan points out, where the husbands
are brothers, the children have a known blood in the male
line as well as in the female line. Each boy or girl in the
family is known by each husband to be, if not a son or
daughter, then a nephew or niece. This fixing of the ancestry
on both sides evidently strengthens the family bond. Beyond
the closer kinships in each group, there now arise in succes-
sive generations, alliances between groups, not on the female
side only, but on the male side. And this ramification of
connexions becomes cm element of social strength.*

So that as, in passing from promiscuity to polyandry, we
pass to more coherent and definite domestic relations, so do
we in passing from the lower forms of polyandry to the
higher.

§ 801. What must we say about polyandry in respect of
its effects on social self-preservation, on the rearing of off-
spring, and on the lives of adults I Some who have had good

* It is proper to point oat here that the name fraternal polyandry doe*
not exactly represent the facte, and that in reality there exists no such insti-
tution. A polyandry strictly fraternal, would imply that the husbands had
descended from a monogamio union ; for only then oould they be brothers in
the full sense of the word. In a polyandric society the so-called brothers
who become husbands of one wife, are descendants of one mother by fathers
who weie brothers on the maternal side, and something less than cousins on
the paternal side. The so-called brothers are therefore something more than
half-brothers. This qualification, howeyer, does not negatWo the statement
that the male Wood cf the children is known.

POLYANDRY. C47

opportunities of judging, contend that in certain places it is
advantageous. It would seem that just as there axe habitats
in which only inferior forms of animals can exist, bo in
societies physically conditioned in particular ways, the in-
ferior forms of domestic life survive because they alone are
practicable.

In his work, The Abode of Snow, Mr. Wilson, discussing
Thibetan polyandry in its adaptation to the barren Himalayan
region, says : —

" There is a tendency on the part of population to increase at a
greater ratio than its power of producing food ; and few more effectual
means to check that tendency could well be devised than the system of
Tibetan polyandry, taken in conjunction with the Lama monasteries and
nunneries. Very likely it was never deliberately devised to do so, and
came down from some very rude state of society ; but, at all events, it
must have been found exceedingly serviceable in repressing population
among, what Koeppen so well calls, the snow-lands of Asia. If popula-
tion had increased there at the rate it has in England during this
century, frightful results must have followed either to the Tibetans or
to their immediate neighbours. As it is* almost every one in the
Himalaya has either land and a house of his own, or land and a houso
in which he has a share, and which provide for his protection and
subsistence. ... I was a little surprised to find that one of the
Moravian missionaries defended the polyandry of the Tibetans, not as a
thing to be approved of in the abstract or tolerated among Christians!
but as good for the heathen of so sterile a country. In taking this view,
he proceeded on the argument that superabundant population, in an
unfertile country, must be a great calamity, and produce 'eternal war-
fare or eternal want' Turner took also a similar view."

Concerning the effects on the welfare of offspring, I do not
meet with definite statements. If, however, it be true that
in so very infertile a habitat, a form of marriage which tends
to check increase is advantageous ; the implication is that
the children in each family are better off, physically con-
sidered, than they would be were monogamic unions the rule.:
being better fed and clothed the mortality among them must
be less, and the growth more vigorous. As to the accom-
panying mental influence, we can only suspect that conflict
of authority and absence of specific paternity, must entail
serious evils.

.648 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

The lives' of adults do not appear to be so injuriously
affected as might be anticipated. Mr. Wilson says : —

" In a primitive and not very settled state of society, when the head
of a family is often called away on long mercantile journeys, or to
attend at court, or for purposes of war, it is a certain advantage that he
should be able to leave a relative in his place whose interests are hound
up with his own. Mr. Talboys Wheeler has suggested that polyandry
arose among a pastoral people, whose men were away from their families
. for months at a time, and where the duty of protecting their families
would be undertaken by the brothers in turn. The system certainly
answers such an end, and I never knew of a case where a polyandric
wife was left without the society of one at least of her husbands."

He also quotes Turner as saying :—

• u ' The influence of this custom on the manners of the people, as far
as I could trace, has not been unfavourable. . « • To the privilege of
unbounded liberty the wife here adds the character of mistress of the
family and companion of her husbands.' [And he adds] But, lest so
pleasing a picture may delude some of the strong-minded ladies (of
America) to get up an agitation for the establishment of polyandry in
the West, I must say it struck me that the having many husbands
sometimes appeared to be only having many masters and increased toil
and trouble."

So, too, in the narrative of Mr. George Bogle's mission to
Thibet, in Warren Hastings' time, we read :—

u They club together in matrimony as merchants do in trade. Nor
is this joint concern often productive of jealousy among the partners.
They are little addicted to jealousy. Disputes,' indeed, sometimes arise
about the children of the marriage ; but they are settled either by a
comparison of the features of the child with those of its several fathers,
or left to the determination of its mother."

§ 302. If we regard polyandry as one of several marital
arrangements independently originating in the earliest socie-
ties, we shall not interpret its decline in the same way as if
we consider it a transitional form once passed through by
every race, as Mr. M'Lennan apparently does.

To one of the causes he assigns for its decline, we may,
indeed, assent. He points out that in some cases, as among
the Kandyans, a chief has a wife to himself, though inferior
people are polyandrous ; and in Horace della Penna's time a

fOLYANDR*. C49

kindred difference existed in Thibet : he says polyandry
" seldom occurs with noble folk, or those in easy circum-
stances, who take one wife alone, and sometimes, but rarely,
more." Hence, with Mr. M'Lennan, we may infer that since
in all societies customs spread downwards, imitation tends to
make monogamy replace polyandry where circumstances do
not hinder. But Mr. M'Lennan, not regarding this dying out
of inferior forms in presence of superior forms as the sole
cause, argues that the superior forms also arise by transfor-
mation of the inferior. Taking as typical the polyandry of
Ladak, where the eldest brother has a priority, and where,
on his death, " his property, authority, and widow devolve upon
his next brother? (p. 199), he affiliates upon this the arrange-
ment among the early Hebrews, under which " the Levir had
no alternative but to take the widow [of his brother] ; indeed,
she was his wife without any form of marriage " (p. 203).
And he hence infers that monogamy and polygyny, as existing
among the Hebrews, had been preceded by polyandry ; say-
ing that—

• " It is impossible not to believe that we have here presented to us
successive stages of decay of one and the same original institution ; im-
possible not to connect the obligation, in its several phases, with what
we have seen prevailing in Ladak ; impossible not to regard it as hav-
ing originally been a right of succession, or the counterpart of such a
right, derived from the practice of polyandry" (pp> 203-4).

It seems to me, however, quite possible to find in the
customs of primitive peoples, another explanation which is
much more natural Under early social systems, wives,
being regarded as property, are inherited in the same way as
other property. When we read that among the "Bella*
bollahs (Haidahs), the widow of the deceased is transferred
to his brother's harem ; " that among the Zulus, " the widow
is transferred to the brother of her deceased husband on his
death ;" that among the Damaras, " when a chief dies, his
surviving wives are transferred to his brother or to his
nearest relation ;n the suspicion is raised that taking pos-
session of a brother's wife has nothing to do with poly-

650 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

andiy. This suspicion is confirmed on finding that in
Congo, "if there foe three brothers, and one of them die, the
two survivors share his concubines between them;" on
finding that in Samoa, " the brother of a deceased husband,
considered himself entitled to have his brother's wife;" on
finding that in ancient Vera Pa2, " the brother of the de-
ceased at once took her [the widow] as his wife even if be
was married, and if he did not, another relation had a right
to her." These facts imply that where wives are classed
simply as objects of value (usually purchased), the suc-
cession to them by brothers goes along with succession
in general. And if there needs further evidence, I may
cite this — that in sundry places a . father's wives are in-
herited. Thomson says that among the New Zealandets
" fathers' wives descended to their sons, and dead brothers'
wives to their surviving brothers." Of the Mishmis, Eow-
latt states that " when a man dies or becomes old, it is the
custom of these people for the wives to be distributed
amongst his sons, who take them to wife." Torquemada
mentions provinces of Mexico in which the sons inherited
those wives of their fathers who had not yet borne sons to
the deceased. In his Abeokuta, Burton states that among
the Egbas "the son inherits all the father's wives save his
own mother." We learn from Bosman that on the Slave
Coast, " upon the father's death, the eldest son inherits not
only all his goods and cattle, but his wives • . . excepting
his own mother." And in Dahomey, the king's eldest son
"inherits the deceased's wives and makes them his own,
excepting, of course, the woman that bare him."

We cannot, then, admit that the practice of marrying a
dead brother's widow implies pre-existence of polyandry,
and cannot accept the inference that out of decaying poly-
andry higher forms of marriage grew up.

§ 303. Considering the several forms of polyandry as
types of domestic relations which have arisen by successive

POLYANDRY. 651

limitations of promiscuity, we must say that in this or that
society they have evolved, have survived, or have been extin-
guished, according as the aggregate of conditions has deter-
mined. Probably in some cases the lower polyandry has
not been supplanted by the higher, because the two have not
so come into competition that the better results of the higher
have made themselves felt In competition with polygyny
and monogamy, polyandry may, in certain cases, have had
the advantage for reasons above cited : polygynic and mono-
gamic families dying out because the children were relatively
ill-fed.

On the other hand, influences like those which in some
places made the superior forms of polyandry prevail over
the inferior, must, in other places, have tended to extinguish
polyandry altogether. Save where great restriction of the
food-supply over a considerable area, rendered multiplica-
tion disadvantageous, polyandric societies, producing fewer
members available for offenoe and defence, naturally gave
way before societies having family-arrangements more favour-
able to increase. This is probably the chief reason why
polyandry, once common, has become comparatively infre-
quent. Other things equal, this inferior family-type has
yielded to superior family-types ; both because of its inferior
fertility, and because of the smaller family-cohesion, and
consequently smaller social cohesion, resulting from it.

CHAPTER VIL

POLYGYNY.

§ 304. Were it not for the ideas of sacredness associated
with that Hebrew history which in childhood familiarized
us with examples of polygyny, we should probably feel as
much surprise and repugnance on first reading about it as
we do on first reading about polyandry. Education has,
however, prepared us for learning without astonishment that
polygyny is common in every part of the world not occupied
by the most advanced nations.

It prevails in all climates — in the Arctic regions, in arid
burning tracts, in fertile oceanic islands, in steaming tropical
continents. All races practise it. We have already noted
its occurrence among the lowest tribes of men — the Fuegians,
the Australians, the Tasmanians. It is habitual with the
Negritos in New Caledonia, in Tanna, in Vate, in Eromanga,
in lifu. Malayo-Polynesian peoples exhibit it everywhere —
in Tahiti, the Sandwich Islands, Tonga, New Zealand, Mada-
gascar, Sumatra. Throughout America it is found among
the rude tribes of the northern continent, from the Esqui-
maux to the Mosquitos of the isthmus, and among the
equally rude tribes of the southern continent, from the
Caribs to the Patagonians; and it prevailed in the ancient
semi-civilized American states of Mexico, Peru, and Central
America. It is general with African peoples — with the Hot-
tentots, Damaras, Kaffirs of the south; with the East

POLYGYNY, 653 •

Africans, Congo people, Coast Negroes, Inland Negroes,
Dahomans, Ashantis of mid-Africa; with the Fulahs and
Abyssinians of the north. In Asia it is common to the
settled Cingalese, the semi-nomadic Hill-tribes of India, the
wandering Yakntes. And its prevalence in ancient eastern
societies needs but naming. Indeed, on counting up all
peoples, savage and civilized, past and present, it appears
that the polygynous ones far outnumber the rest.

Plurality of wives would be even more general were it
not in some cases checked by the conditions. We learn this
when told that among the poverty-stricken Bushmen, poly-
gyny, though perfectly allowable, is rare; when Forsyth
states that among the Gonds " polygamy is not forbidden,
but, women being costly chattels, it is rarely practised;"
when Tennent tells us of the Veddahs that " the community
is too poor to afford polygamy;" when, concerning the
Ostyaks, we read that " polygamy is allowed, but it is not
common : for a plurality of wives the country is too poor.'1
And though the occurrence of polygyny among some of the
poorest peoples, as the Australians and the Fuegians, shows
that poverty does not prevent it if the women can get enough
food for self-maintenance, we may understand its exclusion
where the mode of life does not permit them to do so.

This natural restriction of polygyny by poverty, is not the
only natural restriction. There is another, recognition of
which modifies considerably those ideas of polygynous
societies conveyed by travellers. Their accounts often imply
that plurality of wives is, if not the uniform, still, the most
general, arrangement. Yet a little thought makes us hesitate
to accept the implication. Turner tells us that in Lifu,
" Bula [a chief] has forty wives : common men three or four,"
How can that be ? we may fitly ask — How come there to be
so many women? Scepticism such as is raised by this
statement, is raised in smaller degrees by many other state-
ments. We read in Park that the Mandingoes are poly-
gamists, and each of the wives " in rotation is mistress of the

054 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONa

household**' Andersson says of the Damaras that * polygamy
is practised to a great extent . • . each wife builds for her-
self a hut" We are told by Lesseps that " obliged to make
frequent journeys, a Yakout has a wife in every place where
he stops." Of the Haidahs, it is alleged that " polygamy is
universal, regulated simply by the facilities for subsistence."
Acceptance of these statements involves the belief that in
each case there is a great numerical preponderance of women
over men. But unless we assume that the number of girls
born greatly exceeds the number of boys, which we have no
warrant for doing, or else that war causes a mortality of
males more enormous than seems credible, we must suspect
that the polygynous arrangement is less general than these
expressions represent it to be* Examination confirms the
suspicion. For habitually it is said, or implied, that the
number of wives varies according to the means a man has of
purchasing or maintaining them ; and as, in all societies, the
majority are comparatively poor, only the minority can
afford more wives than one. Such statements as that among
the Comanches " every man may have all the wives he can
buy ; " that the Nufi people " marry as many wives as they
are able to purchase ; ". that " the number of a Fijian's wives
is limited only by his means of maintaining them;" that
" want of means forms the only limit to the number of wives
of a Mishmee;" warrant the inference that the less pros-
perous men, everywhere likely to form the larger part, have
either no wives or but a single wife each.

For this inference we find definite justification on inquiring
further. Numerous accounts show that in polygynous
societies the polygyny prevails only among the wealthier or
the higher in rank. Iichtenstein says " most of the Koossas
have but one wife ;. the kings and chiefs of the kraals only,
have four or five." Polygyny is permitted in Java, says
Eaffles, but not much practised except by the upper classes.
"The customs of the Sumatrans permit their having as many
wives by jujwr as they can compass the purchase of, or afford

rOLYGTOY. 055

to maintain ; but it is extremely rare that an instance occurs
of their having more than one, and that only among a few
of the chiefs." In ancient Mexico u the people were content
with one legitimate wife, except the lords, who had many
concubines, some possessing more than 800/' The Honduras
people " generally kept but one wife, but their lords as many
as they pleased." And Oviedo says that among the inhabi-
tants of Nicaragua, " few have more than one wifet except
the principal men, and those who can support more."

These statements, joined with others presently to be cited,
warn us against the erroneous impressions likely to be
formed of societies described as polygynous. We may infer
that in most eases where polygyny exists, monogamy co-
exists to a greater extent

§ 305. The prevalence of polygyny will not perplex us if,
setting out with the primitive unregulated state, we ask
what naturally happened.

The greater strength of body and energy of mind, which
gained certain men predominance as warriors and chiefs, also
gave them more power of securing women ; either by stealing
them from other tribes or by wresting them from men of
their own tribe. And in the same way that possession of a
stolen wife came to be regarded as a mark of superiority, so
did possession of several wives, foreign or native. Cremony
says the Apache "who can support or keep, or attract by his
power to keep, the greatest number of women, is the man
who is deemed entitled to the greatest amount of honour
and respect" This is typical. Plurality of wives has every-
where tended to become a class-distinction. In ancient
Mexico, AhuitzotTs " predecessors had many wives, from aa
opinion that their authority and grandeur would be height-
ened in proportion to the number of persons who contributed
to their pleasures." A plurality of wives is common among
chiefs and rich people in Madagascar, and " the only law to
regulate polygamy seems to be, that no man may take

65fl DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS,

twelve wives excepting the sovereign." Among the East
Africans " the chiefs pride themselves upon the number of
their wives, varying from twelve to three hundred/1 In
Ashantee " the number of wives which caboceers and other
persons possess, depends partly on their rank and partly on
their ability to purchase them/' Joining which facts with
those furnished by the Hebrews, whose judges and kings —
Gideon, David, Solomon — had their greatness so shown ; and
with those furnished by extant Eastern peoples, whose poten-
tates, primary and secondary, are thus distinguished ; we may
see that the establishment and maintenance of polygyny has
been largely due to the honour accorded to it, originally as a
mark of strength and bravery, and afterwards as a mark of
social status. This conclusion is verified by European history :
witness the statement of Tacitus that the ancient Germans,
"almost alone among barbarians," "are content with one
wife," except a very few of noble birth; and witness the
statement of Montesquieu that the polygyny of the Merovin-
gian kings was an attribute of dignity.

From the beginning, too, except in some regions where
the labour of women could not be utilized for purposes of
production, an economic incentive has joined with other
incentives. We are told that in New Caledonia, "chiefs
have ten, twenty, and thirty wives. The more wives the
better plantations, and the more food." A like utilization of
wives prompts to a plurality of them throughout Africa. On
reading in Caillte that Mandingo wives " go to distant places
for wood and water ; their husbands make them sow, weed
the cultivated fields, and gather in the harvest;" and on
reading in Shooter that among the Kaffirs, "besides her
domestic duties, the woman has to perform all the hard
work ; she is her husband's ox, as a Kaffir once said to me,
—she had been bought, he argued, and must therefore
labour ;" we cannot fail to see that one motive for desiring
many wives, is desiring many slaves.

POLYGYNY. 657

Since in every society the doings of the powerful and the
wealthy furnish the standards of right and wrong, so that
even the very words "noble" and "servile," originally ex-
pressive of social status, have come to be expressive of good
and bad in conduct, it results that plurality of wives acquires,
in places where it prevails, an ethical sanction. Associated
with greatness, polygyny is thought praiseworthy ;- and asso-
ciated with poverty, monogamy is thought mean. Hence the
reprobation with which, as we have seen, the one-wife system
is regarded in polygynous communities. Even the religious
sanction is sometimes joined with the ethical sanction. By
the Chippewayans " polygamy is held to be agreeable in the
eyes of the Great Spirit, as he that has most children is held
in highest estimation " — a belief reminding us of a kindred
one current among the Mormons. And that among the
Hebrews plurality of wives was not at variance either with
the prevailing moral sentiments or with supposed divine
injunctions, is proved by the absence * of any direct or im-
plied reprobation of it in their laws, and by the special
favour said to have been shown by God to sundry rulers who
liad many wives and many concubines.

It should be added that in societies characterized by it, this
form of marital relation is approved by women as well as by
men — certainly in some cases, if not generally. Bancroft
cites the fact that among the Comanches " as polygamy causes
a greater division of labor, the women do not object to it.*
And of the Makalolo women, Livingstone says : —

" On hearing that a man in England could marry but one wife, several
ladies exclaimed. that they would not like to live. in. such a* country :
they could not imagine how English ladies could relish our custom ;
for in their way of thinking* every man of respectability should have
a number of wives as a proof of his wealth. Similar ideas prevail all
down the Zambesi." -

Initiated, then, by unrestrained' sexual instincts among

savage men, polygyny has been fostered by the same causes

that have established political control and industrial control

2 v

6*8 DOMESTIC UI8TI7UTI0NS.

. • . ■ .

It has been an incidental element of governmental power in
uncivilized and semi-civilized societies.

§ 306. In contrast with the types of marital relations
dealt with in the preceding two chapters,, polygyny shows
some advance. That it is better than promiscuity needs no
proof; and that it is better than polyandry we shall find
several reasons for concluding.

Under it there arise more definite relationships. Where
the unions of the sexes are entirely unsettled, only the
maternal blood is known. On passing from the lower form
of polyandry in which the husbands are unrelated, to that
higher form in which the husbands are something more
than half-brothers, we reach a stage in which the father's
blood is known, though not with certainty the father. But
in polygyny, fatherhood and motherhood are both manifest
In so far, then, as paternal feeling is fostered by more
distinct consciousness of paternity, the connexion between
parents and children is strengthened : the bond becomes a
double one. A further result is that traceable lines of descent
on the male side, from generation to generation, are estab-
lished. Hence greater family cohesion. Beyond definite
union of father and son, there is definite union of successive
fathers end sons in a series. But while increased

in a descending direction, family cohesion is little, if at all,
increased in a lateral direction. Though some of the children
may be brothers and sisters, most of them are only half-
brothers and half-sisters ; and their fraternal feeling is pos-
sibly less than in the polyandrio household. In a group
derived from several unrelated mothers by the same
father, the jealousies fostered by the mothers are likely to
be greater than in a group derived from the same mother
and indefinitely affiliated on several brothers. In this re-
spect, then, the family remains equally incoherent, or becomes,
perhaps, more incoherent Probably to this cause is due the
dissension and bloodshed in the households of eastern riders.

POLYGYNY. 659

Save, however, where there result among sons struggles for
power, we may conclude that by definiteness of descent the
family is made more coherent, admits of more extensive rami-
fications, and is thus of higher type.

§ 307. The effects of polygyny on the self-preservation of
the society, on the welfare of offspring, and on the lives of
adults, have next to be considered

Barbarous communities surrounded by communities at
enmity with them, derive advantages from it lichtenstein
remarks of the Kaffirs that "there are fewer men than
women, on account of the numbers of the former that fall
in their frequent wars. Thence comes polygamy, and the
women being principally employed in all menial occupations."
Now, without accepting the inference that polygyny is ini-
tiated by the loss of men in war, we may recognize the fact
which Lichtenstein does not name, that where the death-rate
of males considerably exceeds that of females, plurality of
wives becomes a means of maintaining population. If, while
decimation of the men is habitually going on, no survivor
has more than one wife — if, consequently, many women
remain without husbands; there will be a deficiency of
children : the multiplication will not suffice to make up for
the mortality. Food being sufficient and other things equal,
it will result that of two conflicting peoples, the one which
does not utilize all its women as mothers, will be unable to
hold its ground against the other which does thus utilize
them: the monogamous will disappear before the poly-
gynous. Hence, probably, a chief reason why in rude
societies and little-developed societies, polygyny prevails so
widely. Another way in which, under early condi-

tions, polygyny conduces to social self-preservation, is this.
In a barbarous community formed of some wifeless men,
others who have one wife each, and other swho have more
than one, it must on the average happen that this last class
will be the relatively superior — the stronger and more

2 u 2

C60 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

courageous among savages, and among semi-civilized peoples
the wealthier also, who are mostly the more capable. Hence,
ordinarily, a greater number of offspring will be left by men
having natures of the kind needed. The society will be ren-
dered by polygyny not only numerically stronger, but more
of its units will be efficient warriors. There is also

a resulting structural advance. As compared with lower
types of the family, polygyny, by establishment of descent
in the male line, conduces to political stability. It is true
that in many polygynous societies succession of rulers is in
the female line (the savage system of kinship having sur-
vived) ; and here the advantage is not achieved. This may
be a reason why in Africa, where this law of descent is
common, social consolidation is so incomplete : kingdoms
being from time to time formed, and after brief periods dis-
solved again, as we before saw. But under polygyny, inheri-
tance of power by sons becomes possible ; and where it arises,
government is better maintained. Not indeed that it is well
maintained ; for when we read that among the Damaras " the
eldest son of the chiefs favourite wife succeeds his father ;w
and that among the Koossa Kaffirs, the king's son who suc-
ceeds is " not always the eldest ; it is commonly him whose
mother was of the richest and oldest family of any of the
king's wives;" we are shown how polygyny introduces an
element of uncertainty in the succession of rulers, which is
adverse to stable government. Further, this definite

descent in the male line aids the development of ancestor-
worship ; and so serves in another way to consolidate society.
With subordination to the living there is joined subordination
to the dead. Rules, prohibitions, commands, derived from
leading men of the past, acquire sacred sanctions ; and, as all
early civilizations show us, the resulting cult helps to main-
tain order and increase the efficiency of the offensive and
defensive organization.

In regions where food is scarce, the effects on the rearing
of offspring are probably not better than, if as good as, those

POLYGYNY. 661

of polyandry ; but in warm and productive regions the death-
rate of offspring from innutrition is not likely to be higher,
and the establishment of positive paternity conduces to pro-
tection of them. In some cases, indeed, polygyny tends
directly to diminish the mortality of children : cases, namely,
in which a man is allowed, or is called upon, to marry the
widow of his brother and adopt his family. For what we
have seen to be originally a right, becomes, in many cases, an
obligation. Even among inferior races, as the Chippewas,
who require a man to marry his dead brother's widow, an
ostensible reason is that he has to provide for his brother's
children. And on reading that polygyny is not common with
the Ostyaks because " the country is too poor," but that
• brothers marry the widows of brothers," we may infer that
the mortality of children is, under such conditions, thereby
diminished. Very possibly the Hebrew requirement that a
man should raise up seed to his dead brother, may have ori-
ginally been that he should rear his dead brother's children,
though it was afterwards otherwise interpreted; for the
demand was made on the surviving brother by the widow,
who spat in his face before the elders if he refused. The
suspicion that obligation to take care of fatherless nephews
and nieces, entailed this kind of polygyny, is confirmed by
current facts ; as witness the following passage in Lady Duff
Gordon's Letters from Egypt: — " I met Hasan the janissary
of the American Consulate, a very respectable good man.
He told me he had married another wife since last year. I
asked, What for? It was the widow of his brother, who
had always lived in the same house with him, like one
family, and who died, leaving two boys. She is neither
young nor handsome, but he considered it his duty to pro-
vide for her and the children, and not let her marry a
stranger." But though in most rudg societies poly-

gyny may not be unfavourable to the rearing of children
and may occasionally check juvenile mortality in societies
where philanthropic feeling is undeveloped, yet its moral

CO 2 DOMESTIC IKSTITUTIOK&

effects on children can scarcely be tetter than those of slffl
lower marital relations. Where there is but one household,
dissensions caused by differences of origin and interest, must
be injurious to character. And even where, as happens in
many places, the mothers have separate households, there
cannot be escaped the evils of jealousies between the groups;
and there still remain the evils caused by a too-difiused
paternal care.

On the lives of adults In undeveloped societies, the effects
of polygyny are not in all respects bad. "Where the habitat
is snch that women cannot support themselves, while the
number of men is deficient, it results that, if there is no poly-
gyny, some of them, remaining nncared for, lead miserable
lives. The Esquimaux furnish an illustration. Adequate
food and clothing; beiug under their conditions obtainable
only by men, it happens that widows, when not taken by sur-
viving men as additional wives, soon die of starvation, Even
where food is not difficult to procure, if there is much mor-
tality of males in war, there must, in the absence of polygyny,
be many women without that protection which, under primi-
tive conditions, is indispensable. Certain ills to which adult
females of rude societies are inevitably exposed, are thus
mitigated by polygyny — mitigated in the only way practicable
among unsympathetic barbarians. Of course the

evils entailed, especially on women, are great In Mada-
gascar the name for polygyny — " famporafesana "^-signifies
" the means of causing enmity ;" and that kindred names arc
commonly applicable to it, we are shown by their use among
the Hebrews: in the Mischna, a man's several wives are
called "tzaidt," that is, troubles, adversaries, or rivals.
Sometimes the dissension is mitigated by separation. Mars-
den says of the Battas that " the husband finds it necessary
to allot to each of them [his wives] their several fire-places
and cooking utensils, where they dress their owb victuals
separately, and prepare his in turns.* Of the wives of a
Mishmi chief, Wilcox writes — "The remainder, lo avoid

POLYGYNY. 663

domestic quarrels, have separate houses assigned them at
some little distance, or live with their relations.10 Through-
out Africa there is usually a like arrangement. But ob-
viously the moral mischiefs are thus only in a small degree
diminished. Moreover, though polygyny may not

absolutely exclude, still, it greatly represses, those higher
emotions fostered by associations of the sexes. Prompted
by the instincts of men and disregarding the preferences of
women, it can but in exceptional cases, and then only in
slight degrees, permit of better relations than exist among
animals. Associated as it is with the conception of women
as property, to be sold by fathers, bought by husbands, and
afterwards treated as slaves, there are negatived those sen-
timents towards them into which sympathy and respect
enter as necessary elements. How profoundly the lives of
adults are thus vitiated, may be inferred from the charac-
terization which Monteiro gives of the polygynous peoples
of Africa.

" The negro knows not love, affection, or jealousy. ... In all the
long yean I bave been in Africa I have never seen the negro manifest
the least tenderness for or to a negress. ... I have never seen a
negro pot his arm round a woman's waist, or give cr receive any
caress whatever that would indicate the slightest loving regard or
affection on either side. They have no words or expressions in their
language indicative of affection or love.9

And this testimony harmonizes with testimonies cited by
Sir John Lubbock, to the effect that the Hottentots " are so
cold and indifferent to one another that you would think
there was no such thing as love between them ; " that among
tlie Koossa Kaffirs, there is " no feeling of love in marriage ; "
and that in Yariba, " a man thinks as little of taking a wife
as of cutting an ear of corn — affection is altogether out of
the question.'9 Not, indeed, that we can regard polygyny as
caimng this absence of the tender emotion associated among
ourselves with the relations of the sexes ; for lack of it
babitually characterizes men of low types, whether they have
only one wife each or have several.' We c&n say merely that

6W DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

the practice of polygyny is unfavourable to the development
of the emotion.

Beyond this resulting inferiority in the adult life, there is
abridgment of the life which remains after the reproductive
age is passed. Naturally the women, already little regarded,
then become utterly unregarded ; and the men, if in a less
degree, also suffer from lack of the aid prompted by domestic
affection. Hence. an early close to a miserable old age.

§ 308. A few -words must be added respecting the modifi-
cations which polygyny undergoes in progressing societies,
and which accompany the spread of monogamy.

Between the two or more wives which the stronger man
among savages secures to himself, there tend to arise distinc-
tions. Here be has an older and a younger wife, like the
Australian, and occasionally the Bushman. Here he has
wives purchased at intervals, of which he makes one or other
a favourite ; as does the Damara or the Fijian. Here of the
■several married by him the earliest only is considered legiti-
mate ; as with the Tahitians of rank and with the Chibchas.
Here the chief wife is one who has been given by the king.
From the beginning the tendency has been to establish
differences. among them, and for the differences to grow, in
course of time, definite. Then there comes also the

contrast .between wives who are native women, and wive?
who are .women taken as spoils of war. Hence, probably,
the original way in which results the marking off into wive?
proper and ..concubines — a way indicated even among the
Hebrews, who, in Deuteronomy xxi. 10 — 14, are authorized
to appropriate individually the women of conquered enemies
— women who, as they may be repudiated without formal
divorce, stand in the position of concubines rather than
wives. Once made, a difference of this kind was

probably extended by taking account of the ranks from
which the women married were derived — wives from the
superior class, concubines from the inferior; some exempt

♦ POLYGYNY. 6C6

from labour, gome slaves. Aud then, from the

tendency towards inequality of position among the wives,
there at length came in advancing societies the recognized
arrangement of a chief wife ; and eventually, with rulers, a
queen, whose children were the legitimate successors.

Along with the spread of monogamy in ways to be here-
after described, the decay of polygyny may be regarded as in
part produced by this modification which more and more
elevated one of the wives, and reduced the rest to a relatively
servile condition, passing gradually into a condition less and
less authorized. Stages in this transformation were exhibited
among the Persians, whose king, besides concubines, had three
or four wives, one of whom was queen, " regarded as wife in a
different sense from the others ; " and again among the Assy-
rians, whose king had one wife only, with a certain number of
concubines ; and again among the Egyptians, some of whose
wall-paintings represent the king with bis legitimate wife
seated by his side, and his illegitimate wives dancing for their
amusement. It was so, too, with the ancient Peruvian rulers
and Chibcha rulers ; as it is still with the rulers of Abyssinia.

Naturally the polygynic arrangement as it decayed, con-
tinued longest in connexion with the governing organization,
which everywhere and always displays a more archaic condi-
tion than other parts of the social organization. Recognizing
which truth we shall not be surprised by the fact that, in
modified forms, polygyny survived among monarchs during
the earlier stages of European civilization. As implied
above, it was practised by Merovingian kings : Clothair and
his sons furnishing instances. And after being gradually
repressed by the Church throughout other ranks, this
plurality of wives or concubines long survived in the royal
usage of having many mistresses, avowed and unavowed :
polygyny in this qualified form remaining a tolerated
privilege of royalty down to late times.

§ 309. To sum up, we must say, firstly, that in degree of

666 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS,

evolution the polygynous type of family is higher than the
types we have thus far considered. Its connexions are
equally definite in a lateral direction and more definite in
a descending direction. There is greater filial and parental
cohesion, caused by conscious unity of blood on both male
and female sides; and the continuity of this cohesion
through successive generations, makes possible a more exten-
sive family integration.

Under most conditions polygyny has prevailed against
promiscuity and polyandry, because it has subserved social
needs better. It has done this by adding to other causes
of social cohesion, more widely ramifying family connexions.
It has done it by furthering that political stability which
Tesults from established succession of rulers in the same line.
It has done it by making possible a developed form of
ancestor-worship.

While it has spread by supplanting inferior types of the
marital relations, it has, in the majority of cases, held its
ground against the superior type ; because, under rude con-
ditions, it conduces in a higher degree to social self-preserva-
tion by making possible more rapid replacement of men lost
in war, and so increasing the chance of social survival

But while it has this adaptation to certain low stages of
social evolution-— while in some cases it diminishes juvenile
mortality and serves also to diminish the mortality of stuS
plus women ; it repeats within the household the barbarism
characterizing the life outside the household.

&

CIIAPTER VIII

MONOGAMY/

5 310. ALREADY reasons have been given for believing
that monogamy dates back as far as any other marital rela-
tion. Given a state preceding all social arrangements, and
unions of individual men with individual women must have
arisen among other kinds of unions.

Indeed, certain modes of life necessitating wide disper-
sion, such as are pursued by forest tribes in Brazil and the
interior of Borneo— modes of life which in early stages of
human evolution must h-*ve been commoner than now —
hinder other relations of the sexes. The Wood-Veddahs
exemplify the connexion between monogamy and great
scattering ; and, again, the Bushmen, who, having no inter-
dict on polygyny are yet rarely polygynous, show us how
separation into very small groups in pursuit of food, tends
to produce more or less enduring associations between men
and women in pairs. Where the habitat permits larger
groups, the unregulated relations of the sexes are qualified
by rudimentary monogamic unions as early as by unions of

• Kow that ibe name polyandry hat become current, it if needful to use
polygyny as a name for the converse arrangement; and at first it would seem
that polygyny implies monogyny as its proper correlative. But monogyny
-does not fully eipiuss the anion of one man with one woman, in contra-
skiHnetion to the unions of one woman with many men and one man with
many women ; since the feminine unity is alone indicated by it — not the
masculine unity also. Hence monogamy, expressing the singleness of, the
marriage, may be fitly retained.

663 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

the polyandric and polygynic kinds, if not earlier. Tho
tendency everywhere shown among the lowest races for men
to take possession of women by force, has this implication ;
since the monopoly established by each act of violence is
over one woman, not over several. Always the state of
having two wives must be preceded by the state of having
one. And the state of having one must in many cases con-
tinue, because of the difficulty of getting two where tho
surplus of women is not great.

Of course the union of one man with one woman as it
originally exists, shows us but the beginning of monogamic
marriage as understood by us. Where, as in cases already
given, the wills of the stronger alone initiate and maintain
such unions — where, as among the Hudson's Bay Indians, " a
weak man, unless he be a good hunter and well beloved, is
seldom permitted to keep a wife that a stronger man thinks
worth his notice" — where, as among the Copper Indians,
Richardson " more than once saw a stronger man assert his
right to take the wife of a weaker countryman ;" monogamy
is very unstable. Its instability thus caused by external
actions is made greater by internal actions — by the disrup-
tive forces of unrestrained impulses. When, even in a superior
race like the Semitic, we find wives repudiated with extreme
frequency, so that among some tribes of Bedouins a man
will have as many as fifty in succession ; we may infer that
by slow stages only have enduring monogamic unions been
established.

§ 311. There have been several aids to the establishment
of them. An important one has been a more developed con-
ception of property, with consequent usages of barter and
purchase. The wresting of a woman by one man from another,
always checked to some extent by the accompanying danger,
was further checked when wives came to be bought, or earned
by labour. If he had given to her father a price, or a stipu-
lated length of service, a man would resist with greater

MONOGAMY. C69

determination the abstraction of his wife, than if he had
obtained her without this sacrifice ; and from other men of
the tribe who had similarly bought their wives, naturally
siding with him, would come reprobation of one who disre-
garded his claim. From the same cause arises a restraint on
divorce. If a wife has been bought or long laboured for, and
if another can be had only at like cost, a barrier is raised
against desires tending to dissolve the marriage.

Then, too, at later stages, predominance of this higher
form of the marital relation is favoured by progress towards
equalization of the sexes in numbers. In proportion as war
becomes less frequent, and in proportion as an increasing part
of the male population is industrially occupied, the mortality
of males diminishes, and monogamy spreads. For polygyny
now meets with positive resistance. Where there is an
approximate balance of men and women, plurality of wives
cannot be common without leaving many men wifeless ; and
from them must come a public opinion adverse to polygyny,
tending to restrain and diminish it That public opinion thus
acts even on rulers after a certain stage, is shown by Low's
remark concerning the rarity of polygyny among the Land
Dyaks : chiefs sometimes indulge in it, but they are apt to
lo3e their influence over their followers by so doing.

To these negative causes for the spread of monogamy, have
to be added positive causes. But before turning to them we
must contrast the monogamic type of family with the tyjies
already discussed.

§ 312. Evidently, as tested by the definiteness and strength
of the links among its members, the monogamic family is
the most evolved. In polyandry the maternal connexion is
alone distinct, and the children are but partially related to
one another. In polygyny both the maternal and paternal
connexions are distinct ; but while some of the children are
fully related, others are related on the paternal side only. In
monogamy not only are the maternal and paternal connexions

($70 domestic iNATirerrioNs.

both distinct, but all the children are related oil both sides.
The family cluster is thus held together by more numerous
ties ; and beyond the greater cohesion so caused, there is an
absence of those repulsions caused by the jealousies inevitable
in the polygynic family.

This greater integration characterizes the family as it
ramifies through successive generations. Definiteness of
descent from the same father, grand-father, great grand-
father, eta, it has in common with polygyny ; but it has also
definiteness of descent from the same mother, grand-mother,
great grand-mother, etc. Hence its diverging branches are
joined by additional bonds. Where, as with the Romans,
there is a legally-recognized descent in the male line only,
so that out of the cognates constituting the whole body of
descendants, only the agnates are held to be definitely related,
the ramifying family-stock is incompletely held together;
but where, as with ourselves, descendants of female members
oi the family are included, it is completely held together.

§ 313. How the interests of the society, of the offspring,
and of the parents, are severally better subserved by mono-
gamy during those later stages of social evolution character-
ized by it, needs pointing out only for form's sake.

Though, while habitual war and mortality of i$ales leaves
constantly a large surplus of females, polygyny favours
maintenance of population ; yet, when the surplus of females
ceases to be large, monogamy becomes superior in produc-
tiveness. For, taking the number of females as measuring
the possible number of children to be born in each gene-
ration, more children are likely to be born if each man has a
wife, than if some men have many wives while others have
none. So that after passing a certain point in the decrease
of male mortality, the monogamic society begins to have an
advantage over the polygynic in respect of fertility; and
social survival, in so far as it depends on multiplication, is
aided by monogamy. The stronger and more

MONOGAMY. $7%

widely ramified family-bonds indicated above, aid in binding
the monogamic society together more firmly than any other*
The multiplied relationships traced along both lines of
descent in all families, which, intermarrying, are ever in-
itiating other double sets of relationships, produce a close
net-work of connexions increasing the social cohesion other-
wise caused. Political stability is also furthered in a greater
degree. Polygyny shares with monogamy the advantage that
inheritance of power in the male line becomes possible ; but
under polygyny the advantage is partially destroyed by the
competition for power liable to arise between the children
of different mothers. In monogamy this element of dissen-
sion disappears, and settled rule is less frequently en-
dangered. For kindred reasons ancestor-worship
has its development aided. Whatever favours stability in
the dynasties of early rulers, tends to establish permanent
dynasties of deities, with the resulting sacred sanctions for
codes of conduct.

Decreased mortality of offspring is a manifest result of
monogamy in societies that have outgrown barbarism. It is
true that in a barren region like the snow-lands of Asia, the
children of a polyandric household, fed and protected by
several men, may be better off than those of a monogamic
household. Probably, too, among savages whose slave- wives,
brutally treated, have their strength overtaxed, as well as
among such more advanced peoples as those of Africa,
where the women do the field-work as well as the domestic
drudgeries, a wife who is one of several, is better able to
rear her children than a wife who has no one to share the
multifarious labours with her. But as fast as we rise to
social stages in which the men, no longer often away in war
and idle during peace, are more and more of them occupied
in industry*— as fast as the women, less taxed by work, are
able to pay greater attention to their families, while the men.
become the bread-winners ; the monogamio union subserves
better in two ways the rearing of children. Beyond the.

672 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

benefit of constant maternal care, the children get the benefit
of concentrated paternal interest.

Still greater are the advantageous effects on the lives of
adults, physical and moral Though in early societies
monogamic unions do not beget any higher feelings towards
women, or any ameliorations of their lot; yet in later
societies they are the necessary concomitants of such higher
feelings and such ameliorations. Especially as the system
of purchase declines and choice by women becomes a factor,
there evolve the sentiments which characterize the relations
of the sexes among civilized peoples. These sentiments
have far wider effects than at first appear. How by their
influence on the domestic relations they tend to raise the
quality of adult life, materially and mentally, is obvious.
But they tend in no small degree otherwise to raise the
quality of adult life: they create a permanent and deep
source of Aesthetic interest. On recalling the many and keen
pleasures derived from music, poetry, fiction, the drama,
etc., all of them having for their predominant theme the
passion of love, we shall see that to monogamy, which has
developed this passion, we owe a large part of the gratifica-
tions which fill our leisure hours.

Nor must we forget, as a further result of the monogamic
relation, that in a high degree it favours preservation of life
after the reproductive period is passed Both by the pro-
longed marital affection which it fosters, and by the greater
filial affection evoked under it, declining years are lengthened
and their evils mitigated.

§ 314. May we, in ending the discussions occupying this
and preceding chapters, conclude that monogamy is the
natural form of sexual relation for the human race ? If so,
how happens it that during the earlier stages of human pro*
gress the relations of the sexes have been so indeterminate ?

Among inferior creatures, inherited instinct settles the
fit arrangement — the arrangement most conducive to the

MONOGAMY. 673

welfare of the species. In one case there is no continuous
association of male and female , in another there is a poly-
gynous group ; in a third there is monogamy lasting for a
season. A good deal of evidence- may be given that among
primates inferior to man, there are monogamic- relations of
the sexes having some persistence.. Why, then, in groups of
primitive men did there come divergences from this arrange-
ment prompted by innate tendencies i Possibly with asso-
ciation into larger groups than are formed by inferior
primates, there came into play disrupting influences which
did not before exist; and perhaps these were not checked
because the resulting marital forms furthered survival of the
groups. It may be that during certain transitional stages
between the first extremely scattered, or little gregarious,
stage, and the extremely aggregated, or highly gregarious,
stage, there have arisen various* conditions favouring various
forms of union: so causing temporary deviations from the
primitive tendency.

Be this as it may, however, it is clear that monogamy has
long been growing innate in the civilized man. For all the
ideas and sentiments now associated with' marriage,, have, as
their implication, the singleness of the union; '

2 x

CHAPTEB IX.

THB PAJCLTr.

§ 315. Let ns now look at the connexions between types
of family and social types. Do societies of different degrees
of composition habitually present different forms of domestic
arrangement ? Are different forms of domestic arrangement
associated with the militant system of organization and the
industrial system of organization ?

To the first of these questions no satisfactory answer can
be given. The same marital relation occurs in the simplest
groups and in the most compound groups. A strict mono-
gamy is observed by the miserable Wood Veddaha* living so
widely scattered that they can scarcely be said to have
reached the social state ; and the wandering Bushmen, simi-
larly low, though not debarred from polygyny, are usually
monogamic. Certain settled and more advanced peoples, too,
are monogamic; as instance those of Fort Dory (New Guinea),
and as instance also the Dyaks, who have reached a stage
passing from simple into compound. And then we find mono-
gamy habitual with nations which have become vast by aggre-
gation and re-aggregation. Polyandry, again, is not restricted
to societies of one order of composition. It occurs in simple
groups, as among the Fuegians, the Aleutians, and the Todas;
and it occurs in compound groups in Ceylon, in Malabar, in
Thibet. Similarly with the distribution of polygyny. It is
common to simple, compound, doubly-compound, and even
trebly-compound societies. One kind of connexion

TUB FAMILY. 675

between the type of family and the degree of social composi-
tion may, however, be alleged. Formation of compound
groups, implying greater co-ordination and the strengthening
of restraints, implies more settled arrangements, public and
private. Growth of custom into law, which goes along with
an extending governmental organization holding larger
masses together, affects the domestic relations along with
the political relations; and thus renders the family arrange-
ments, be they polyandric, polygynic, or monogamic, more
definite.

Can we, then, allege special connexions between the
different types of family and the different social types
classed as militant and industrial ? None are revealed by a
cursory inspection. Looking first at simple tribes, we see
among the unwarlike Todas, a mixed polyandry and poly-
gyny ; and among the Esquimaux, so peaceful as not even
to understand the meaning of war, we see, along with mono-
gamic unions, others that are polyandric and polygynic. At
the same time the warlike Caribs show us a certain amount
of polyandry and a greater amount of polygyny. If, turning
to the opposite extreme, we compare with one another large
nations, ancient and modern, it seems that the militant cha-
racter in some cases co-exists with a prevalent polygyny
and in other cases with a prevalent or universal monogamy.
Nevertheless we shall, on examining the facts more closely,
discern general connexions between the militant type and
polygyny, and between the industrial type and monogamy.

But first we must recognize the truth that a predominant
militancy is not so much shown by armies and the conquests
they achieve, as by constancy of predatory activities. The
contrast between militant and industrial, is properly between
a state in which life is occupied in conflict with other beings,
brute and human, and a state in which life is occupied in
peaceful labour— energies spent in destruction instead of
energies spent in production. So conceiving militancy, we
find polygyny to be its habitual accompaniment

2x2

676 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

To trace the co-existence of the two from Australians and
Tasmanians on through the more developed simple societies
up to the compound and doubly compound, would be tedious
and is needless; for observing, as we have already done
(§ 304), the prevalence of polygyny in the less advanced
societies, and admitting, as we must, their state of chronic
hostility to their neighbours, the co-existence of these traits is
a corollary. That this co-existence results from causal con-
nexion, is suggested by certain converse cases. Among the
natives of Port Dory, New Guinea, there is a strict mono-
gamy, with forbidding of divorce, in a primitive community
comparatively unwarlike and comparatively industrial*
Another instance is furnished by the Land Dyaks, who are
monogamic to the extent that polygyny is an offence ; while,
though given to tribal quarrels about their lands and to the
taking of heads as trophies, they have such industrial develop-
ment that the men, instead of making war and the chase
habitual occupations, do much of the heavy work, and there
is division of trades with some commercial intercourse. The
Hill-tribes of India furnish other instances. There are the
amiable Bodo and Dhimals, without military arrangements
and having no weapons but their agricultural implements,
who are industrially advanced to the extent that there is
exchange of services and that the men do all the out-of-door
work; and they are monogamous. Similarly the monoga-
mous Lepchas are wholly unwarlike. Such, too, is the rela-
tion of traits in certain societies of the New World distin-
guished from the rest by being partially or entirely industrial
Whereas most of the aborigines of North America, habitually
polygynous, live solely to hunt and fight, the Iroquois had
permanent villages and cultivated lands ; and each of them
had but one wife. More marked still is the case of the
Pueblos, who, ° walling out black barbarism " by their
ingeniously conglomerated houses, fight only in self-defence,
and when let alone engage exclusively in agricultural and
other industries, and whose marital relations are strictly

TUB FAMILY. 677

monogamic. This connexion of traits in the simpler

societies, where not directly implied by the inadequate
descriptions of travellers, is often traceable indirectly. We
have seen (§ 250), that there is a natural relation between
constant fighting and development of chiefly power: the
implication being that where, in settled tribes, the chiefly
power is small the militancy is not great. And this is the
fact in those above-named communities characterized by
monogamy. In Dalrymple Island (Torres Strait) there are
no chiefs; among the Hill-Dyaks subordination to chiefs
is feeble ; the headman of each Bodo and Dhimal village has
but nominal authority ; the Lepcha flees from coercion ; and
the governor of a Pueblo town is annually elected. Con-
Tersely, the polygyny which prevails in simple predatory
tribes, persists in aggregates of them welded together by war
into small nations under established rulers; and in these
frequently acquires large extensions. In Polynesia it cha-
racterizes in a marked way the warlike and tyrannically-
governed Fijians. All through the African kingdoms there
goes polygyny along with developed chieftainship, rising to
great heights in Ashanti and Dahomey, where the govern-
ments are coercive in extreme degrees. The like may be said
of the extinct American societies : polygyny was an attribute
of dignity among the rigorously-ruled Peruvians, Mexicans,
Chibchas, Nicaraguans. And the old despotisms of the East
were also characterized by polygyny. Allied with

this evidence is the evidence that in a simple tribe all the
men of which are warriors, polygyny is generally diffused ;
but in a society compounded of such tribes, polygyny con-
tinues to characterize the militant part while monogamy
begins to characterize the industrial part This differentiation
is foreshadowed even in the primitive militant tribe; since
the least militant men fail to obtain more than one rife each.
And it becomes marked when, in the growing population
formed by compounding of tribes, there arises a division
between warriors and workers. But there are more

678 DOMESTIC WKIITUTIOKS.

direct connexions between militancy and polygyny, which
we shall recognize on recalling two facts named in the
chapter on "Exogamy and Endogamy." By members of
savage communities, captured women acre habitually taken
as additional wives or concubines, and the reputations of
warriors are enhanced in proportion to the numbers thus
obtained (§ 305). As Mr. M'Lennan points out, certain
early peoples permitted foreign wives (presumably along
with other wives) to the military class, though such wives
were forbidden to other classes. Even among the Hebrews
the laws authorized private appropriations of women taken
in war (§ 308). The further direct connexion is the one
implied in § 307; namely, that where loss of men in frequent
battles leaves a great surplus of women, the possession of
more wives than one by each man conduces to maintenance
of population and preservation of the society. Hence con-
tinuance of polygyny is, under these circumstances, insured
by those habitual conflicts, which, other things equal, entail
the disappearance of societies not practising it. To which
must be added the converse fact, that as fast as decreasing
militancy and increasing devotion to industry cause an
approximate equalization of the sexes in numbers, there
results a growing resistance to polygyny; since it cannot
be practised by many of the men without leaving many of
the rest wifeless, and causing an antagonism inconsistent
with social stability. Monogamy is thus to a great extent
compelled by that balance of the sexes which industrialism
brings about Once more, the natural relation

between polygyny and predominant militancy, and between
monogamy and predominant industrialism, is shown by the
fact that these two domestic forms harmonize in principle
with the two associated political forms. We have seen that
the militant type of social structure is based on the principle
of compulsory co-operation, while the industrial type of
social structure is based on the principle of voluntary co-
operation. Now it is clear that plurality of wives, whether

THE **MILY, 679

the wives are captured in war or purchased from their
fathers regardless of their own wills, implies domestic rule
of the compulsory type : the husband is tyrant and the wives
are slaves. Conversely, the establishment of monogamy
where fewer women are taken fit war and fewer men lost
in war, is accompanied by increased value of the individual
woman; who, even when purchased, is therefore likely to be
better treated. And when, with farther advance, some
power of choice is acquired by the woman, there is an
approach to the voluntary co-operation which characterizes
this marital relation in its highest form. The domestic
despotism which polygyny involves, is congruous with the
political despotism proper to predominant militancy; and
the diminishing political coercion which naturally follows
development of the industrial type, is congruous with the
diminishing domestic coercion which naturally follows the
accompanying development of monogamy. Probably

the histories of European peoples will be cited against this
view: the allegation being that, from Greek and Roman
times downwards, these peoples, though militant, have been
monogamic. The reply is that ancient European societies,
though often engaged in wars, had large parts of their popu-
lations otherwise engaged, and had industrial systems cha-
racterized by much division of labour and commercial inter-
course. Further, there must be remembered the fact that in
northern Europe, during and after Roman times, while war*
fare was constant, monogamy was not universal. Tacitus
admits the occurrence of polygyny among the German chiefs.
Already we have seen, too, that the Merovingian kings were
polygynists. Even the Carolingian period yields such facts
as that —

Hie confidence of Cbnan U, duke of Britanny, M was kept up by tho
incredible number of men-at-arms which his kingdom famished ; for
yon must know that here, besides that the kingdom is extensive as
well, each warrior will beget fifty, since, bound by the laws neither of
decency nor of religion, each has ten wives or more erven."— (GW.
PicL ap. Bouquet, Recwil des Birtorim*, xi p. 88.)

680 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

And Koenigswarfer says that " such was the persistence of
legal concubinage in the customs of the people that traces of
it are found at Toulouse even in the thirteenth century." To
which let me add the startling fact that after the thirty years'
war had produced in Germany so immense a mortality of
males, bigamy was for a time tolerated by law !

Thus, considering the many factors which have co-operated
in modifying marital arrangements — considering also that
some societies, becoming relatively peaceful, have long re-
tained in large measure the structures acquired during pre-
vious greater militancy, while other societies which have
considerably developed their industrial structures have again
become predominantly militant, causing mixtures of traits ;
the alleged ^relations are, I think, as clear as can be expected.
That advance from the primitive predatory type to the highest
industrial type, has gone along with advance from prevalent
polygyny .to exclusive monogamy, is unquestionable; and
that decline of militancy and rise of industrialism have been
the essential causes of this change in the type of family, is
shown by the fact that this change has occurred where such
other supposable* causes as culture, religious creed, etc., have
not come into play.

§ 316. The domestic relations thus far dealt with mainly
under their private aspects, have now to be dealt with under
their public aspects. For, on the structure of the family, con-
sidered as a component of a society, depend various social
phenomena.

The facts grouped in foregoing chapters show that no true
conception of the higher types of family in their relations to
the higher social types, can be obtained without previous
study of the lower types of family in their relations to the
lower social types. In this case, as in all other cases, error
results when conclusions are drawn from the more complex
products of evolution, in ignorance of the simpler products
from which they have been derived. Already an instance

THE FAMILY. C81

has been furnished by the interpretations of primitive reli-
gions given by the reigning school of mycologists. Pos-
sessed by the ideas which civilization has evolved, and looking
back on the ideas which prevailed among progenitors of
the civilized races, they have used the more complex to
interpret the less complex; and when forced to recognize the
entire unlikeness between the inferred early religious ideas
and the religious ideas found among the uncivilized who now
exist, have assumed a fundamental difference in mode of
action between the minds of the superior races and the minds
of the inferior races; classing with the inferior, in pursuance
of this assumption, such ancient races as the Accadians, to
which the modern world is largely indebted for its present
advance.

All who accept the conclusions set forth in the first part of
this work, will see in this instance the error caused by ana-
lysis of the phenomena from above downwards, instead of
synthesis of them from below upwards. They will see that in
search of explanations we must go beneath the stage at which
men had learnt to domesticate cattle and till the ground.

§317. These remarks are introductory to a criticism on
the doctrines of Sir Henry Maine. While greatly valuing
his works, and accepting as true within limits the views
he has set forth respecting the family in its developed
form, and respecting the part played by it in the evolution
of European nations, it is possible to dissent from his
assumptions concerning the earliest social states, and from
the derived conceptions.

As leading to error, Sir Henry Maine censures " the lofty
contempt which a civilized people entertains for barbarous
neighbours," which, he says, " has caused a remarkable negli-
gence in observing them." But he has not himself wholly
escaped from the effects of this sentiment. While utilizing
the evidence furnished by barbarous peoples belonging to the
higher types of man, and while in some cases citing con-

632 DOMESTIC INSTmJTIONS,

firmatory evidence furnished by barbarous peoples of lower
types, he has ignored the great mass of the uncivilized, and
disregarded the multitudinous facts they present at variance
with his theory. Though criticisms have led him somewhat to
qualify the sweeping generalizations set forth in his Ancient
Law — though, in the preface to its later editions, he refers to
his subsequent work on Village Communities, as indicating
some qualifications ; yet the qualifications are but small, and
in great measure hypothetical He makes light of suck
adverse evidence as Mr. M'Lennan and Sir John Lubbock
give, on the ground that the part of it he deems most trust-
worthy is supplied by Indian Hill-tribes, which have, he
thinks, been led into abnormal usages by the influences in-
vading races have subjected them to. And though, in his
Early Institutions, he says that "all branches of human
society may or may not have been developed from joint
families which arose out .of an original patriarchal cell," he
clearly, by this form of expression, declines to admit that in
many cases they have not been thus developed.

He rightly blames earlier writers for not exploring a suffi-
ciently wide area of induction. But he has himself not
made the area of induction wide enough ; and that substitu-
tion of hypothesis for observed fact which he ascribes to his
predecessors, is, as a consequence, to be noticed in his own
work. Respecting the evidence available for framing gene-
ralizations, he says :—

" The rndiments of the social sta e, so far as they ate known to as
at all, are known through testimony of three sorts— accounts by con-
temporary observers of civilization* less advanced than their own, the
records which particular races have preserved concerning their primi-
tive history, and ancient law."

And since, as exemplifying the " accounts by contemporary
observers of civilizations less advanced than their own," he
names the account Tacitus gives of the Germans, and does
not name the accounts modern travellers give of uncivilized
races at large, he clearly does not include as evidence the

i

THE FAMILY. 688

statements made by these.* Let me name here two instances
of the way in which this limitation leads to the substitution
of hypothesis for observation.

Assuming that the patriarchal state is the earliest, Sir
Henry Maine says th$t " the implicit obedience of rude men to
their parent is doubtless a primary fact" Now though among
lower races, sons, while young, may be subordinate, from
laek of ability to resist ; yet that they remain subordinate
when they become men, cannot be asserted as a uniform,
and therefore as a primary, fact On turning to § 35, it will
be seen that obedience does not characterize all types of
men. When we read that the Mantra " lives as if theia were
no other person in the world but himself ; " that the Carib
" is impatient under the least infringement " of his inde-
pendence; that the Mapuch6 M brooks no command;" that
the Brazilian Indian begins to display impatience of all
restraint at puberty ; we cannot conclude that filial submis-
sion is an original trait When we are told that by the
Gallinomeros, " old people are treated with contumely, both
men and women/' and that by Shoshones and Araucanians,
boys are not corrected for fear of destroying their spirit ; we
cannot suppose that subjection of adult sons to their fathers
characterizes all types of men. When we learn that by the
Kavajos, "born and bred with the idea of perfect personal
freedom, all restraint is unendurable," and that among them
" every father holds undisputed sway over his children until
the age of puberty" — when we learn that among some

• At page 17 of hit Village Commmmtiei, he deliberately discredits this
evidence — speaking of it a* "the slippery testimony concerning wages
which is gathered from travellers' tales." I am aware that in the eyes of
most, antiquity gives saoredness to testimony i and that so, what were " tra-
vellers* tales " when they were written in Roman days, have oome, in our
days, to he regarded as of higher authority than like tales written by recent
or living travellers. I see, however, no reason to ascribe to the second-hand
statements of Tacitus a trustworthiness which I do not ascribe to the first-
hand statements of modern explorers ; many of them scientifically educated
— Barrow, Berth, Galton, Burton, Livingstone, Seeman, Darwin, Wallace,
Humboldt, Burckhardt, and others too numerous to set down*

684 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

Californians, children after puberty " were subject only to the
chief/1 that among the lower Californians, "as soon as children
are able to get food for themselves they are left to their own
devices" and that among the Comanches male children "are
even privileged to rebel against their parents, who are not
entitled to chastise them but by consent of the tribe;" we
are shown that in some races the parental and filial relation
early comes to an end Even the wilder members of the
very race which has familiarized us with patriarchal govern-
ment, yield like facts. Burckhardt says that "the young
Bedouin " pays his father "some deference as long as he
continues in his tent; " but "whenever he can become master
of a tent himself . . . he listens to no advice, nor obeys any
earthly command but that of his own will" So far from
showing that filial obedience is innate, and the patriarchal
type a natural consequence, the evidence points rather to the
inference that the two have evolved hand in hand under
favouring conditions.

Again, referring to the way in which originally, common
ancestral origin was the only ground for united social action,
Sir Henry Maine says : —

" Of this we may at least be certain, that all ancient societies regarded
themselves as having proceeded from one original stock, and even
laboured under an incapacity for comprehending any reason except this
for their holding together in political union. The history of political
ideas begins, in fact, with the assumption that kinship in blood is the
sole possible ground of community in political functions."

Now if by " ancient societies " is meant those only of which
records have come down to us, and if the " history of politi-
cal ideas " is to include only the ideas of such societies, this
may be true ; but if we are to take account of societies more
archaic than these, and to include other political ideas than
those of Aryans and Semites, it cannot be sustained. Proof
has been given (§§ 250 — 252) that political co-operation
arises from the conflicts of social groups with one another.
Though establishment of it may be facilitated where " the
commonwealth is a collection of persons united by a common

THE FAMILY. 685

descent from the progenitor of an original family ; M yet, in
hosts of cases, it takes place where no connexion of this kind
exists among the persona The members of an Australian
tribe which, under a temporary chief, join in battle against
those of another tribe, have not a common descent, but are
alien in blood. If it be said that political functions can here
scarcely be alleged, then take the case of the Creeks of North
America, whose men have various totems implying various
ancestries, and whose twenty thousand people living in
seventy villages have nevertheless evolved for themselves a
government of considerable complexity. Or still better take
the Iroquois, who, similar in their formation of tribes out of
intermingled clans of different stocks, were welded by com-
bined action in war into a league of five (afterwards six)
nations under a republican government. Indeed early sys-
tems of kinship put relations in political antagonism ; so
that, as we read in Bancroft concerning the Eutchins, " there
can never be inter-tribal war without ranging fathers and
sons against each other." Even apart from the results of
mixed clanships, that instability which characterizes primi-
tive relations of the sexes, negatives the belief that political
co-operation everywhere originates from family co-operation :
instance the above-named Creeks, of whom " a large portion
of the old and middle-aged men, by frequently changing/
have had many different wives, and their children, scattered
around the country, are unknown to them."

Thus finding reason to suspect that Sir Henry Maine's
theory of the family is not applicable to all societies, lee us
proceed to consider it more closely.

§ 318. He implies that in the earliest stages there were
definite marital relations. That which he calls " the infancy
of society " — " the situation in which mankind disclose them-
selves at the dawn of their history ; " is a situation in which
"'every one exercises jurisdiction over his wives and his
children, and they pay no regard to one another/ " But in

>■• ■■■■'a

I*

086 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

the chapters on "The Primitive Belations of the Sexes," on
" Promiscuity," and on " Polyandry/' I have cited numerous
facto showing that definite coherent marital relations are
preceded by indefinite incoherent ones ; and also that among
the types of family evolving out of these, there are some
composed not of a man with wife and children, but of a wife
with men and children : such being found not alone in socie-
ties of embryonic and infantine forms* but also in consider-
ably advanced societies.

A further assumption is that descent has always and
everywhere been in the male lina That it has from the
recorded times of those peoples with whom Sir Henry Maine
deals, may be true ; and it is true that male descent occurs
among some rude peoples of other types, as the Rookies of
India, the Beluehis, the New Zealanders, the Hottentots. It
is by no means the rule, however, among the uncivilized.
Mr. M'Lennan, who has pointed out the incongruity between
this assumption and a great mass of evidence, shows that all
over the world descent in the female line is common ; and
the many examples given by him I might, were it needful*
enforce by others. This system is not limited to groups
so little organized that they might be set aside as pre-
infantine (were that permissible) ; nor to groups which
stand on a level with the patriarchal, or so-called infantine,
societies in point of organization ; but it occurs in groups, or
rather nations, which have evolved complex structures. Elm-
ship was through females in the two higher ranks of the
Tahitiaus; and among the Tongans "nobility has always
descended by the female lina" It was so with the ancient
Chibfthas, who had made no insignificant strides in civiliza-
tion. Among the Iroquois, again, titles, as well as property,
descended through women, and were hereditary in the woman's
tribe: the son could never succeed to his father's title of
sachem, nor inherit even his tomahawk ; and these Iroquois
had advanced far beyond the infantine stage — were governed
by a representative assembly of fifty sachems, had a separate

THS FAMILY. '687

military organization, a separate ecclesiastical organization*
definite laws, cultivated lands individually possessed, perma-
nent fortified villages. So, too, in Africa, succession to rank
and property follows the female line among the Coast-
negroes, Inland-negroes, Congo people, etc ; who have distinct
industrial systems, four and five gradations in rank, settled
agricultures, considerable commerce, towns in streets. How
misleading is the observation of a few societies only, is
shown by Maxsden's remark respecting the Sumatrans of the
Batta district. He says that " the succession to the chief-
ships does not go, in the first instance, to the son of the
deceased, but to the nephew by a sister ; " and adds " that
the same extraordinary rule, with respect to property in
general, prevails also amongst the Malays of that part of the
island: n the rule which he considers " extraordinary/9 being
really, among the uncivilised and little civilized, the ordinary
rule.

.Again, Sir Henry Maine postulates the existence of govern-
ment from the beginning — patriarchal authority over wife,
children, slaves, and all who are included in the primitive
social group. But in the* chapters on "The Regulating
System " and " Social Types," I have shown that in various
parts of the world there are social groups without heads ; as
the Fuegians, some Australians, most Esquimaux, the Ara-
furaa, the Land Dyaks of the Upper Sarawak river; others
with headships that are but occasional, as Tasmanians, some
Australians, some Caribs, some Uaup&s; and many with
vagne and unstable headships, as the Andamanese, Abipones,
Snakes, Chippewayana, Chinooks, Chippewas, some Kam-
schadales, Guiana tribes, Mandans, Coroados, New Guinea
people, Tannesa Though in some of these cases the com-
munities are of the lowest, I see no adequate reason for
excluding them from our conception of the " infancy of
society." And even saying nothing of these, we cannot
regard as lower than infantine in their stages, those commu-
nities which, like the Upper Sarawak Dyaks, the Araf uras

088 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

the New Guinea people, carry on their peaceful lives with-
out other government than that of public opinion and
custom. Moreover, as we saw in § 250, the head-

Ship which exists in many simple groups is not patriarchal.
Such chieftainship as arose among the Tasmanians in time of
war, was determined by personal fitness. So, too, according
to Edwards, with the Caribs, and according to Swan, with the
Creeks. Then, still further showing that political authority
does not always begin with patriarchal authority, we have
the Iroquois, whose system of kinship negatived the genesis
of patriarchs, and who yet developed a complex republican
government ; and we have the Pueblos, who, living in well-
organized communities under elected governors and councils,
show no signs of patriarchal rule in the past.

Another component of the doctrine is that originally, pro-
perty is held by the family as a corporate body. According
to Sir Henry Maine, " one peculiarity invariably distinguishing
the infancy of society," is that " men are regarded and treated
not as individuals but always as members of the particular
group." The man was not " regarded as himself, as a distinct
individual. His individuality was swallowed up in his
family." And this alleged primitive submergence of the
individual, affected even the absolute ruler of the group
"Though the patriarch, for we must not yet call him the
paterfamilias, had rights thus extensive, it is impossible to
doubt that he lay under an equal amplitude of obligations.
If he governed the family it was for its behoof. If he was
lord of its possessions, he held them as trustee for his children
and kindred . . • the family in fact was a corporation ; and
he was its representative." Here, after expressing

a doubt whether there exist in the primitive mind ideas so
abstract as those of trusteeship and representation, I go on
to remark that this hypothesis involves a conception difficult
to frame. For while the patriarch is said to hold his posses-
sions "in a representative rather than a proprietary cha-
racter/' he is said to have unqualified dominion over children,

THE FAMILY. 689

as over slaves, extending to life and death ; which implies
that though he possesses the greater right of owning subordi*
nate individuals absolutely, he does not possess the smaller
right of owning absolutely the property used by them and
himself! I may add that besides being difficult to frame,
this conception is not easily reconcilable with Sir Henry
Maine's description of the Patria Potestas of the Romans,
which he says is "our type of the primeval paternal au*
thority," and of which he remarks that while, during its
decline, the father's power over the son's, person became
nominal, his " rights over the son'* property were always
exercised without scruple." And I may also name its seem*
ing incongruity with the fact that political rulers who
have unlimited powers over their subjects, are usually also
regarded as in theory owners of their property.:, instance at
the present time the kings of Dahomey, Ashanti; Congo,
Gayor on the Gold Coast Passing to the essential

question, however, I find myself here at issue not with Sir
Henry Maine only, but with other writers oil primitive social
states, who hold that all ownership is originally tribal, that
family-ownership comes later, and ownership by individuals
last As already implied in § 292, the evidence leads me to
believe that from the beginning there has- been individual
ownership of such things as could without difficulty be ap-
propriated True though it is that in early stages rights
of property are indefinite— certain though it may be that
among primitive men the moral sanction which property
equitably obtained has among ourselves, is lacking— obvious
as we find it that possession is often established by right of
the strongest ; the facts prove that in the rudest communi*
ties there is a private holding of useful movables, maintained
by each man to the best of his ability, A personal mono*
poly extends itself to such things as can readily be monopo-
lised. The Tinneh who, " regarding all property, including
wives, as belonging to the strongest," show in a typical way
the primitive form of appropriation, also show that this ap+

2 Y

690 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

propriation is completely personal ; since they "tram with
the deceased all his effects." Indeed, even apart from evi-
dence, it seems to me an inadmissible supposition that in
* the infancy of society " the egoistic savage, utterly without
idea of justice or sense of responsibility, consciously held his
belongings on behalf of those depending upon him.

One more element, indirectly if not directly involved in
the doctrine of Sir Henry Maine, is that " the infancy of
society " is characterized by the perpetual tutelage of women.
While each male descendant has a capacity " to become him-
self the head of a new family and the root of a new set of
parental powers," * a woman of course has no capacity of the
kind, and no title accordingly to the liberation which it con-
fers. There is therefore a peculiar contrivance of archaic
jurisprudence for retaining her in the bondage of the family
for life." And the implication appears to be that this slavery
of women, derived from the patriarchal state, and naturally
accompanied by inability to hold property, has been slowly
mitigated, and the right of private possession acquired, as
the primitive family has decayed. But when we pass from
the progenitors of the civilized races to existing uncivilized
races, we meet with facts requiring us to qualify this proposi-
tion. Though in rude societies entire subjection of women is
the rule, yet there are exceptions ; both in societies lower
than the patriarchal in organization, and in higher societies
which bear no traces of a past patriarchal state. Among
the Kocch, who are mainly governed by " juries of elders,*1
" when a woman dies the family property goes to her
daughters." In tribes of the Karens, whose chiefs, of little
authority, are generally elective and often wanting, "the
father wills his property to his children. . . . Nothing is
given to the widow, but she is entitled to the use of the
property till her death." Of the Khasias, Steel says that
"the house belongs to the woman; and in case of the
husband dying or being separated from her, it remains her
property." Among the Sea-Dyaks, whose law of inheritance

THE FAMILY. 691

is not that. of primogeniture, and whose chieftainships, where
they exist, are acquired by merit, as the wife does an equal
share of work with her husband, " at a divorce she is entitled
to half the wealth created by their mutual [joint] labours ; "
and Brooke writes of certain Land-Dyaks, that "the most
powerful of the people in the place were two old ladies,
who often told me that all the land and inhabitants belonged
to them." North America furnishes kindred facts. In the
Aleutian Islands "rich women are permitted to indulge in
two husbands;'9 ownership of property by females being
implied. Among the Nootkaa, in case of divorce there is " a
strict division of property " — the wife taking both what she
brought and what she has made ; and similarly among the
Spokanes, " all household goods are considered as the wife's
property," and there is an equitable division of property oil
dissolution of marriage. Again, of the Iroquois, who, con-
siderably advanced as we have seen, were shown by their
still-surviving system of descent in the female line, never to
have passed through the patriarchal stage, we read that the
proprietary rights of husband and wife remained distinct;
and further, that in case of separation the children went
with the mother. Still more striking is the instance supplied
by the peaceable, industrious, freely-governed Pueblos ; whose
women, otherwise occupying good positions, not only inherit
property, but, in some cases, make exclusive claims to it
Africa, too, where the condition of women is in most respects
low, but where descent in the female line continues, furnishes
examples. In Timbuctoo a son's share of the father's pro-
perty is double that of a daughter. Above the Yellala falls
on the Congo, fowls, eggs, manioc, and fruits, " seem all to
belong to the women, the men never disposing of them without
first consulting their wives, to whom the beads are given."

Thus many things are at variance with the theory which
assumes that " the infancy of society " is exhibited in the
patriarchal group. s was implied in the chapters on the
"Primitive Relations of the Sexes," on "Promiscuity," on

2 Y 2

692 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS,

u Polyandry,'* the earliest societies were without domestic
organization as they were without political organization. In*
stead of a paternally-governed cluster, at once family and
rudimentary State, there was at first an aggregate of males
and females without settled arrangements, and having no
relations save those established by force and changed when
the stronger willed.

§ 319. And here we come in face of the fact before
obliquely glanced at, that Sir Henry Maine's hypothesis takes
account of no stages in human progress earlier than the
pastoral or agricultural* The groups he describes as severally
formed of the patriarch, his wife, descendants, slaves, flocks,
and herds, are groups implying domesticated animals of
several kinds. But before the domestication of animals was
achieved, there passed long stages stretching back through
pre-historic times. To understand the patriarchal group, we
must inquire how it grew out of the less-organized groups
which preceded it.

The answer is not difficult to find if we ask what kind
of life the domestication of herbivorous animals entails.
Where pasture is abundant and covers large areas, the keep-
ing of flocks and herds does not necessitate separation of
their owners into very small clusters : instance the Comanches,
who, with their hunting, join the keeping of cattle, which
the members of the tribe combine to guard. But where
pasture is not abundant, or is distributed in patches, many
cattle cannot be kept together ; and their owners conse-
quently have to part. Naturally, division of the owners
will be into such clusters as are already vaguely marked off
in the original aggregate. Individual men with such women
as they have taken possession of, such animals as they have
acquired by force or otherwise, and all their other belongings,
will wander hither and thither in search of food for their
sheep and oxen. As already pointed out, we have, in pre-
pastoral stages, as among the Bushmen, cases where scarcity

*HE FAMILY. 693

of wild food necessitates parting into very small groups,
usually single families ; and clearly when, instead of game
and vermin to be caught, cattle have to be fed, the distribu-
tion of pasturage, here in larger oases and there in smaller
ones, will determine the numbers of animals, and consequently
of human beings, which can keep together. In the separation
of Abraham and Lot we have a traditional illustration.

Thus recognizing the natural origin of the wandering
family-group, let us ask what are likely to become its traits.
We have seen that the regulating system of a society is
evolved by conflicts with environing societies. Between
pastoral hordes which have become separate, and in course
of time alien, there must arise, as between other groups, an-
.tagonisms: caused sometimes by appropriations of strayed
cattle, sometimes by encroachments upon grazing areas mo-
nopolized. But now mark a difference. In a tribe of
archaic type, such ascendancy as war from time to time gives
to a man who is superior in strength, will, or cunning, com-
monly fails to become a permanent headship (§ 250) ; since
his power is regarded with jealousy by men who are in other
respects his equals. It is otherwise in the pastoral horde.
The tendency which war between groups has to evolve a
head in each group, here finds a member prepared for the
place. Already there is the father, who at the outset was
by right of the strong hand, leader, owner, master, of wife,
children, and all he carried with him. In the preceding
stage his actions were to some extent kept in check by other
men of the tribe ; now they are not. His sons could early
become hunters and carry on their lives independently ; now
they cannot

Note a second difference. Separation from other men
brings into greater clearness the fact that the children are
not only his wife's children, but his children; and further,
since among its neighbours his group is distinguished by his
name, the children spoken of as members of his group are
otherwise spoken of as his children. The establishment of

6W DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

male descent is thus facilitated. Simultaneously there is
apt to come acknowledged supremacy of the eldest son. The
first to give aid to the father; the first to reach manhood; the
first likely to marry and have children ; he is usually the one
on whom the powers of the father devolve as he declines and
dies. Hence the average tendency through successive
generations will be for the eldest male to become head of
the increasing group; alike as family ruler and political
ruler — the patriarch.

At the same time industrial co-operation is fostered.
Savages of the lowest types get roots and berries, shell-fish,
vermin, small animals, etc., without joint action. Amon*
those who have readied the advanced hunting stage and
capture large animals, a considerable combination is implied,
though of an irregular kind. But on rising to the stage in
which flocks and herds have to be daily pastured and
guarded, and their products daily utilized, combined actions
of many kinds are necessitated ; and under the patriarchal
rule these become regularized by apportionment of duties.
This co-ordination of functions and consequent mutual de-
pendence of parts, conduces to consolidation of the group as
an organic whole. Gradually it becomes impracticable for
any member to live by himself : deprived not only of the
family aid and protection, but of the food and clothing
yielded by the domesticated animals. So that the industrial
arrangements conspire with the governmental arrangements
to produce a well-compacted aggregate, internally coherent
and externally marked off definitely from other aggregates.

This process is furthered by disappearance of the less*
developed. Other things equal, those groups which are
most subordinate to their leaders will succeed best in battle.
Other things equal, those which, submitting to commands
longer, have grown into larger groups, will also thus benefit
And other things equal, advantages will be gained by those
in which, under dictation of the patriarch, industrial co-
operation has been rendered efficient So that by survival

THE FAMILY. 695

of the fittest among pastoral groups struggling for existence
with one another, those which obedience to their heads and
mutual dependence of parts have made the strongest, will be
those to spread ; and in course of time the patriarchal type
will thus become well marked. Not, indeed, that entire
disappearance of less-organized groups must result; since
regions favourable to the process described, facilitate survival
of a few smaller hordes, pursuing lives more predatory and
less pastoral

Mark next how, under these circumstances, there arise
certain arrangements respecting ownership. That division
of goods which is pre-supposed by individualization of pro-
perty, cannot be carried far without appliances unknown to
savage life. Measures of time, measures of quantity, measures
of value, are required. When, from the primitive appro-
priation of things found, caught, or made, we pass to the
acquisition of things by barter and by service, we see that
approximate equality of value between the exchanged things
is implied ; and in the absence of recognized equivalence,
which must be exceptional, there will be great resistance
to barter. Among savages, therefore, property extends but
little beyond the things a man can procure for himself.
Kindred obstacles occur in the pastoral group. How can
the value of the labour contributed by each to the common
weal be measured ? To-day the cowherd can feed his cattle
close at hand; to-morrow he must drive them far and get
back late. Here the shepherd tends his flock in rich
pasture; and in a region next visited the sheep disperse in
search of scanty food, and he has great trouble in getting
in the strayed ones. No accounts of labour spent by either
can be kept ; nor are there current rates of wages to give
ideas of their respective claims to shares of produce. The
work of the daughter or the bond-woman, who milks and
who fetches water, now from a well at hand and now from
one further off, varies from day to day ; and its worth, as
compared with the worths of other works, cannot be known

696 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

So with the preparation of skins, the making of clothing, the
setting up of tents. All these miscellaneous services, differ-
ing in arduousness, duration, skill, cannot be paid for in
money or produce while there exists neither currency nor
market in which the relative values of articles and labours
may be established by competition. Doubtless a bargain for
services rudely estimated as worth so many cattle or sheep,
may be entered into. But beyond the fact that this form of
payment, admitting of but very rough equivalence, cannot
conveniently be carried out with all members of the group,
there is the fact that even supposing it to be carried out, the
members of the group cannot separately utilize their respec-
tive portions. The sheep have to be herded together: it
would never do to send them out in small divisions, each
requiring its attendant. Milk must be dealt with in the
mass — could not without great loss of labour be taken by so
many separate milkmaids and treated afterwards in separate
portions. So is it throughout. The members of the group
naturally fall into the system of giving their respective
labours and satisfying from the produce their respective
wants. The patriarch, at once family-head, director of
industry, owner of the group and its belongings, regulates
the labour of his dependents ; and, maintaining them out
of the common stock which results, is restrained in his dis-
tribution, as in his conduct at large, only by custom and by
the prospect of resistance and secession if he disregards too
far the average opinion.

The mention of secession introduces a remaining trait of
the patriarchal group. Small societies, mostly at enmity
with surrounding societies, are anxious to increase the
numbers of their men that they may be stronger for war.
Hence not infrequently female infanticide, to facilitate the
rearing of males ; hence in some places, as in parts of Africa,
a woman is forgiven any amount of irregularity if she bears
many children; hence the fact that among the Hebrews
barrenness was a reproach. This wish to strengthen itself by

THE FAMILY. 697

adding to its fighting members, leads each group to welcome
fugitives from other groups. Everywhere and in all times,
there goes on desertion — sometimes of rebels, sometimes of
criminals. Stories of feudal ages, telling of knights and men-
at-arms who, being ill-treated or in danger of punishment,
escape and take service with other princes or nobles, remind
us of what goes on at the present day in various parts of
Africa, where the dependents of a chief who treats them too
harshly leave him and join some neighbouring chief, and of
what goes on among such wandering tribes as the Coroados,
members of which join now one horde and now another as
impulse prompts. And that with pastoral peoples the like
occurs, we have direct evidence. Pallas tells us of the
Kalmucks and Mongols that men oppressed by their chief,
desert and go to other chiefs* Occasionally occurring

everywhere, this fleeing from tribe to tribe entails ceremonies
of incorporation if the stranger is of fit rank and worth —
exchange of names, mingling of portions of blood, etc. — by
which he is supposed to be made one in nature with those he
has joined. What happens when the group, instead of being
of the hunting type, is of the patriarchal type ? Adoption
into the tribe now becomes adoption into the family. The
two being one — the family being otherwise called, as in
Hebrew, " the tent" — political incorporation is the same thing
as domestic incorporation. And adoption into the family,
thus established as a sequence of primitive adoption into the
tribe, long persists in the derived societies when its original
meaning is lost.

And now to test this interpretation. Distinct in nature as
are sundry races leading pastoral lives, we find that they
have evolved this social type when subject to these particular
conditions. That it was the type among early Semites does
not need saying: they, in fact, having largely served to
exemplify its traits. That the Aryans during their nomadic
stage displayed it, is implied by the account given above of
Sir Henry Maine's investigations and inferences. We find it

'698 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

again among the Mongolian peoples of Asia; and again
among wholly alien peoples inhabiting South Africa. Of the
Hottentots, who, exclusively pastoral, differ from the neigh-
bouring Bechuanas and Kaffirs in not cultivating the soil at
all, we learn that all estates " descend to the eldest son, or,
where a son is wanting, to the next male relation ; " and an
eldest son may after his father's death retain his brothers and
sisters in a sort of slavery. Note, too, that among the neigh-
bouring Damaras, who, also exclusively pastoral, are unliko
in the respect that kinship in the female line still partially
survives, patriarchal organization, whether of the family or
the tribe, is but little developed, and the subordination small ;
and further, that among the Kaffirs, who though in large
measure pastoral are partly agricultural, patriarchal role,
private and public, is qualified.

It would be unsafe to say that under no other conditions
than those of the pastoral state, does this family-type occur.
We have no proof that it may not arise along with a direct
transition from the hunting life to the agricultural life. Bat
it seems that usually this direct transition is accompanied by
a different set of changes. Where, as in Polynesia, pastoral
life has been impossible, or where, as in Peru and Mexico, we
have no reason to suppose that it ever existed, the political
and domestic arrangements, still characterized much or little
by the primitive system of descent in the female line, have
acquired qualified forms of male descent and its concomitant
arrangements; but they appear to have done so under
pressure of the influences which habitual militancy main-
tains. We have an indication of this in Gomara's statement
respecting the Peruvians, that "nephews inherit, and not
sons, except in the case of the Yncas " Still better are we
shown it by sundry African states. Among the Coast
Negroes, whose kinships are ordinarily through females,
and whose various societies, variously governed, are most of
them very unstable, male descent has been established in
some of the .kingdoms, The Inland Negroes, too, similarly

THE FAMILY. 699

retaining as a rule descent in the female line, alike in the
State and in the family, have acquired in their public and
private arrangements, some traits akin to those derived
from the patriarchal system; and the like is the case in
Congo. Farther, in the powerful kingdom of Dahomey,
where the monarchy has become stable and absolute, male
succession and primogeniture are completely established,
and in the less-despotically governed Ashanti, partially
established.

But whether the patriarchal type of family does or does /
not arise under other conditions, we may safely say that the
pastoral life is most favourable to development of it From
the general laws of evolution it is a corollary that there goes
on integration of any group of like units, simultaneously
exposed to forces that are like in kind, amount, and direc-
tion (First Principles, §§ 163, 168); and obviously, the
members of a wandering family, kept together by joint in-
terests and jointly in antagonism with other such families,
will become more integrated than the members of a family
associated with other families in a primitive tribe ; since in
this the joint interests are largely tribal. Just as a larger
social aggregate becomes coherent by the co-operation of its
members in conflict with neighbouring like aggregates ; so
does this smallest social aggregate constituted by the nomadic
horda Of the differentiations which simultaneously arise,
the same may be said. As the government of a laiger
society is evolved during its struggles with other such
societies; so is the government of this smallest society.
And as here the society and the family are one, the develop-
ment of the regulative structure of the society becomes the
development of the regulative family-structure. Moreover,
analogy suggests that the higher organization given by this
discipline to the family-group, makes it a better component
of societies afterwards formed, than are family-groups which
have not passed through this discipline.. Already we have
seen that great nations arise only by aggregation and re^

700 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

aggregation. Small communities We first to acquire some
consolidation and structure; then they admit of union
into compound communities, which, when well integrated,
may again he compounded into still larger communities;
and so on. It now appears that social evolution is most
favoured when this process begins with the smallest groups-
the families : such groups, made coherent and definite in the
way described, and afterwards compounded and re-corn*
pounded, having originated the highest societies.

An analogy between social organisms and individual
organisms supports this inference* In a passage from which
I have already quoted a clause, Sir Henry Maine, using a
metaphor which biology furnishes, says : — " All branches of
human society may or may not have been developed from
joint families which arose out of an original patriarchal cell;
but, wherever the Joint Family is an institution of an Aryan
race, we see it springing from such a cell, and, when it dis-
solves, we see it dissolving into a number of such cells:"
thus implying that as the cell is the proximate component
of the individual organism, so the family is the proximate
component of the social organism. In either case, how-
ever, this, though generally true, is not entirely true ; and
the qualification required is extremely suggestive. Low
down in the animal kingdom exist creatures not possessing
definite cell-structure — small portions of living protoplasm
without limiting membranes and even without nuclei
There are also certain types produced by aggregation of
these ; and though it is now alleged that the individual com-
ponents of one of the compound Foramini/era have nuclei,
yet they have none of the definiteness of developed cells. In
types above these, however, it is otherwise : every ccelente-
rate, molluscous, annulose, or vertebrate animal, begins as a
cluster of distinct, nucleated cells. Whence it would seem
that the undifferentiated portion of protoplasm constituting
the lowest animal, cannot, by union with others such, furnish
the basis for a higher animal ; and that the simplest aggregates

THE FAMILY, 70l

have to become definitely developed before they can form by
combination larger aggregates capable of much development.
Similarly with societies. Tribes in which the family is vague
and unsettled remain politically rude* Sundry partially*
civilized peoples characterized by some definiteness and co-
herence of family structure, have attained corresponding
heights of social structure. And the highest organizations
have been reached by nations compounded out of family
groups which had previously become well organized,

$ 320, And now, limiting our attention to these highest
societies, we have to thank Sir Henry Maine for showing us
the ways in which many of their ideas, customs, laws, and
arrangements, have been derived from those which charac-
terized the patriarchal group.

In all cases habits of life, when continued for many
generations, mould the nature ; and the resulting traditional
beliefs and usages with the accompanying sentiments, be*
come difficult to change. Hence, on passing from the
wandering pastoral life to the settled agricultural life, the
patriarchal type of family with its established traits, per-
sisted, and gave its stamp to the social structures which
gradually arose. As Sir Henry Maine says — " All the larger
groups which make up the primitive societies in which the
patriarchal family occurs, are seen to be multiplications of
it, and to be, in fact, themselves more or less formed on its
model" The divisions which result become distinct in
various degrees. "In the joint undivided family of the
Hindoos, the stirpes, or stocks, which are only known to
European law as branches of inheritors, are actual divisions
of the family, and live together in distinct parts of the com-
mon dwelling ; " and similarly in some parts of Europe, In
the words of another writer — "The Bulgarians, like the
Russian peasantry, adhere to the old patriarchal method, and
fathers and married sons, with their children and children's
children, live under the same roof until the grandfather dies.

702 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

As each son in his torn' gets married, a new room is added to
the old building, until with the new generation there will
often be twenty or thirty people living under the same roof,
all paying obediencq and respect to the head of the family."
Further multiplication produces the village community; in
which the households, and in part the landed properties,
have become distinct And then where larger populations
arise, and different stocks are locally mingled, there are
formed such groups within groups as those constituting,
among the Romans, the family, the house, and the tribe:
common ancestry being in all cases the bond.

Along with persistence of patriarchal structures under
new conditions, goes persistence of patriarchal principles.
There is supremacy of the eldest male ; sometimes continu-
ing, as in Roman Law, to the extent of life and death power
over wife and children. There long survives, too, the
general idea that the offences of the individual are the
offences of the group to which he belongs ; and, as a conse-
quence, there survives the practice of holding the group
responsible and inflicting punishment upon it There come
the system of agnatic kinship, and the adapted laws of in-
heritance. And there develops the ancestor-worship in which
there join groups of family, house, tribe, etc., that are large
in proportion as the ancestor is remote. These results,
however, Here briefly indicated, do not now concern us:
they have to be treated of more as social phenomena than
as domestic phenomena.

But with one further general truth which Sir Henry Maine
brings into view, we are concerned — the disintegration of the
family. " The unit of an ancient society was the Family,0
he says, and "of a modern society the Individual." Now
excluding those archaic types of society in which, as we have
seen, the family is undeveloped, this generalization appears
to be amply supported by facts ; and it is one of profound
importance. If, recalling the above suggestions respecting
the genesis of the patriarchal family, we ask what must

THE FAMILY. 703

happen when the causes which joined in forming it are
replaced by causes working in an opposite way, we shall
understand why this change has taken place. In the lowest
groups, while there continues co-operation in war and the
chase among individuals belonging to different stocks, the
family remains vague and incoherent, and the individual is
the unit But when the imperfectly-formed families with
their domestic animals severally become distinct groups —
when the co-operations carried on are between individuals
domestically related as well as socially related, then the
family becomes defined, compact, organized; and its con-
trolling agency gains strength because it is at once parental
and political. This organization which the pastoral group
gets by being at once family and society, and which is
gradually perfected by conflict and survival of the fittest, it
carries into settled life. But settled life entails multiplica-
tion into numerous such groups adjacent to one another; and
in these changed circumstances, each of the groups is
sheltered from some of the actions which originated its
organization, and exposed to other actions which tend to
disorganize it Though there still arise quarrels among the
multiplying families, yet, as their blood-relationship is now a
familiar thought, which persists longer than it would have
done had they wandered away from one another generation
after generation, the check to antagonism is greater*
Further, the worship of a common ancestor, in which they
can now more readily join at settled intervals, acts as a
restraint on their hatreds, and so holds them together. A^ain,
the family is no longer liable to be separately attacked by
enemies, but a number of adjacent families are simultaneously
invaded and simultaneously resist : co-operation among them
is induced. Throughout subsequent stages of social growth
this co-operation increases ; and the families jointly exposed
to like external forces tend to integrate. Already we have
-seen that by a kindred process such communities as tribes,
feudal lordships, as small kingdoms, become united into

C04 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

larger communities ; and that along with the union caused
by co-operation, primarily for offence and defence and sub*
sequently for other purposes, there goes a gradual oblitera*
tion of the divisions between them, and a substantial fusion*
Here we recognize the like process as taking place with these
smallest groups. Quite harmonizing with this

general interpretation are the special interpretations which
Sir Henry Maine gives of the decline of the Patria Potestas
among the Romans. He points out how father and son had
to perform their civil and military functions on a footing of
equality wholly unlike their domestic footing ; and how the
consequent separate acquisition of authority, power, spoils,
etc., by the son, gradually undermined the paternal despotism.
Individuals of the family, no longer working together only in
their unlike relations to one another, and coming to work to*
gether under like relations to State-authority and to enemies,
the public co-operation and subordination grew at the expense
of the private co-operation and subordination. And in the
large aggregates eventually formed, industrial activities as well
as militant activities conduced to this result, In his work
Through Bosnia and the Ilerzegdvina, Mr. Evans, describing the
Sclavonic house-communities, which are dissolving under the
stress of industrial competition, says — " The truth is, that the
incentives to labour and economy are weakened by the sense
of personal interest in their results being sub-divided."

And now let us note the marvellous parallel between this
change in the structure of the social organism and a change
in the structure of the individual organism. We saw that
definite nucleated cells are the components which, by aggro*
gation, lay the foundations of the higher organisms ; in the
same way that the well-developed simple patriarchal groups
are those out of which, by composition, the higher societies
are eventually evolved. Here let me add that as, in the
higher individual organisms, the aggregated cells which form
the embryo, and for some time retain their separateness,
gradually give place to structures in which the cell-form is

THE FAMILY, 705

masked and almost lost ; so in the social organism, the family
groups and compound family groups which were the original
components, eventually lose their distinguishableness, and
there arise structures formed of mingled individuals belonging
to many different stocks.

§ 321. A question of great interest, which has immediate
bearings on policy, remains — Is there an,jr limit to this dis-
integration of the family I

Already in the more advanced nations, that process which
dissolved the larger family-aggregates, dissipating the tribe
and the gens and leaving only the family proper, has long
been completed ; and already there have taken; place partial
disintegrations of the family proper*. Along with changes
which substituted individual' responsibility for family re-
sponsibility in respect of offences, have gone changes which,
in some degree, have absolved the family from responsibility
for its members in other respects.. When, by Poor Laws
public provision was made for children whom their parents
did not or could not adequately support, society in so far
assumed family-functions;, as also when undertaking, in a
measure, the charge of parents not supported by their chil-
dren. Legislation has of late further relaxed family-bonds
by relieving parents from the care of their children's minds,
and replacing education under parental direction by educa-
tion under governmental direction ; and where the appointed
authorities have found it needful partially to clothe neglected
children before they could be taught, and even to whip chil-
dren by police agency for not going to school,* they have
still further substituted national responsibility for the re-
sponsibility of parents. This recognition of the individual,
rather than the family, as the social unit, has indeed now
gone so far that by many the paternal duty of the State
is assumed as self-evident ; and criminals are called " our
failures."

• See Timet, 2Stb Feb., 1877. - \

2Z ^

706 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

Are these disintegrations of the family parts of a normal
progress? Are we on our way to a condition like that
reached by sundry Socialist bodies in America and elsewhere!
In these, along with community of property, and along with
something approaching to community of wives, there goes
community in the care of offspring : the family is entirely
disintegrated. We have made sundry steps towards such an
organization. Is the taking of those which remain only a
matter of time ?

To this question a distinct answer is furnished by those
biological generalizations with which we set out. In Chap. II
were indicated the facts that, with advance towards the
highest animal types, there goes increase of the period during
which offspring are cared for by parents ; that in the human
race parental care, extending throughout childhood, becomes
elaborate as well as prolonged ; and that among the highest
members of the highest races, it continues into early man-
hood : providing numerous aids to material welfare, taking
precautions for moral discipline, and employing complex
agencies for intellectual culture. Moreover, we saw that
along with this lengthening and strengthening of the solici-
tude of parent for child, there grows up a reciprocal solicitude
of child for parent. Among even the highest animals of
sub-human types, this aid and protection of parents by off-
spring is absolutely wanting. In the lower human races it
is but feebly marked — aged fathers and mothers being here
killed and there left to die of starvation; and it becomes
gradually more marked as we advance to the highest civilized
races. Are we in the course of further evolution to reverse
all this ? Have those parental and filial bonds which have
been growing closer and stronger during the latter stages of
organic development, become untrustworthy ? and is the
social bond to be trusted in place of them ? Are the intense
feelings which have made -the fulfilment of parental duties a
source of high pleasure, to be now regarded as valueless ; and
is the sense of public duty to children at large, to be culti-

THE FAMILY. 707

vated by each man and woman as a sentiment better and
more efficient than the parental instincts and sympathies ?
Possibly Father Noyes and his disciples at Oneida Creek,
will say Yes, to each of these questions ; but probably few
others will join in the Yes — even of the many who are in
consistency bound to join.

So far from expecting disintegration of the family to go
further, we have reason to suspect that it has already gone
too far. Probably the rhythm of change, conforming to its
usual law, has carried us from the one extreme a long way
towards the other extreme ; and a return movement is to be
looked for. A suggestive parallel may be named. In early
stages the only parental and filial kinship formally recog-
nized was that of mother and child ; after which, in the slow
course of progress was reached the doctrine of exclusive male
kinship— the kinship of child to mother being ignored; after
which there came, in another long period, the establishment
of kinship to both. Similarly, from a state in which family-
groups were alone recognized and individuals ignored, we are
moving towards an opposite state in which ignoring of the
family and recognition of the individual goes to the extreme
of making, not the mature individual only, the social unit,
but also the immature individual ; from which extreme we
may expect a recoil towards that medium state in which there
has been finally lost the compound family-group, while there
is a renovation of the family-group proper, composed of
parents and offspring.

§ 322. And here we come in sight of a truth on which
politicians and philanthropists would do well to ponder. The
salvation of every society, as of every species, depends on the
maintenance of an absolute opposition between the regime of
the family and the regime of the State.

To survive, every species of creature must fulfil two con-
flicting requirements. During a certain period each member
must receive benefits in proportion to its incapacity. After

2 z 2

708 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

that period, it must receive benefits in proportion to its
capacity. Observe the bird fostering its young or the
mammal rearing its litter, and you see that imperfection
and inability are rewarded ; and that as ability increases, the
aid given in food and warmth becomes less. Obviously this
law that the least worthy shall receive most aid, is essential
as a law for the immature : the species would disappear in a
generation did not parents conform to it. Now mark what
is, contrariwise, the law for the mature. Here individuals
gain benefits proportionate to their merits. The strong, the
swift, the keen-sighted, the sagacious, profit by their respec-
tive superiorities — catch prey or escape enemies as the case
may be. The less capable thrive less, and on the average of
cases rear fewer offspring. The least capable disappear by
failure to get food or from inability to escape. And by this
process is maintained that quality of the species which
enables it to survive in the struggle for existence with other
species. There is thus, during mature life, a reversal of the
principle that ruled during immature life.

Already we have seen that a society stands to its citizens
in the same relation as a species to its members (§ 277) ; and
the truth which we have just seen holds of the one holds of
the other. The law for the undeveloped is that there shall
be most aid where there is least merit. The helpless, useless
infant, extremely exigeant, must from hour to hour be fed,
kept warm, amused, exercised. As fast as, during childhood
and boyhood, the powers of self-preservation increase, the
attentions required and given become less perpetual, but still
have to be great. Only with approach to maturity, when
some value and efficiency have been acquired, is this policy
considerably qualified. But when the young man enters
into the battle of life, he is dealt with after a contrary
system. The general principle now is that his reward shall
be proportioned to his value. Though parental aid, not
abruptly ending, may soften the effects of this social law, yet
the mitigation of them is but slight ; and, apart from parental

THE FAMILY. 709

aid, this social law is but in a small degree traversed by
private generosity. Then in subsequent years when parental
aid has ceased, the stress of the struggle becomes greater,
and the adjustment of prosperity to efficiency more
rigorous. Clearly with a society, as with a species, survival
depends on conformity to both of these antagonist principles.
Import into the family the law of the society, and let chil-
dren from infancy upwards have life-sustaining supplies pro-
portioned to their life-sustaining labours, and the society
disappears forthwith by death of all its young. Import into
the society the law of the family, and let the life-sustaining
supplies be great in proportion as the life-sustaining labours
are small, and the society decays from increase of its least
worthy members and decrease of its most worthy members.
It fails to hold its own in the struggle with other societies,
which allow play to the natural law that prosperity shall vary
as efficiency.

Hence the necessity of maintaining this cardinal distinc-
tion between the ethics of the Family and the ethics of the
State. Hence the fatal result if family disintegration goes so
far that family-policy * and state-policy become confused.
Unqualified generosity must remain the principle of the
family while offspring are passing through their early stages.;
and generosity increasingly qualified by justice, must remain
its principle as offspring are approaching maturity. Con-
versely, the principle of the society, guiding the acts of
citizens to one another, must ever be, justice, qualified by such
generosity as their several natures prompt ; joined with un-
qualified justice in the corporate acts of the society to its
members. However fitly in the battle of life among adults,
the proportioning of rewards to merits may be tempered by
private sympathy in favour of the inferior ; nothing but evil
can result if this proportioning is so interfered with by public
arrangements, that demerit profits at the expense of merit.

$ 323. And now to sum up the several conclusions, related

710 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

though heterogeneous, to which our survey of the family has
brought us.

That there are connexions between polygyny and the mili-
tant type and between monogamy and the industrial type,
we found good evidence. Partly the relation between mili-
tancy and polygyny is entailed by the stealing of women in
war ; and partly it is entailed by the mortality of males and
resulting surplus of females where war is constant. In socie-
ties advanced enough to have some industrial organization,
the militant classes remain polygynous, while the industrial
classes become generally monogamous ; and an ordinary trait
of the despotic ruler, evolved by habitual militancy, is the
possession of many wives. Further, we found that even in
European history this relation, at first not manifest, is to be
traced. Conversely, it was shown that with development of
industrialism and consequent approach to equality of the
sexes in numbers, monogamy becomes more general, because
extensive polygyny is rendered impracticable. We saw, too,
that there is a congruity between tTiat compulsory co-operation
which is the organizing principle of the militant type of
society, and that compulsory co-operation characterizing the
polygynous household ; while with the industrial type of
society, organized on the principle of voluntary co-operation,
there harmonizes that monogamic union which voluntary
domestic co-operation presupposes. Lastly, these relation-
ships were clearly shown by the remarkable fact that in
different parts of the world, among different races, there are
simple societies in other respects unadvanced, which, quite
exceptional in being peaceful, are also exceptional in being
monogamic.

Passing to the social aspects of the family, we examined
certain current theories. These imply that in the beginning
there were settled marital relations, which we have seen is
not the fact ; that there was at first descent in the male line,
which the evidence disproves ; that in the earliest groups
there was definite subordination to a head, which is not a

THE FAMILY. 711

sustainable proposition. Further, the contained assumptions
that originally there was an innate sentiment of filial obedi-
ence, giving a root for patriarchal authority, and that origi-
nally family connexion afforded the only reason for political
combination, are at variance with accounts given us of the
uncivilized. Recognizing the fact that to understand the
higher forms of the family we must trace them up from those
lowest forms accompanying the lowest social state, we saw
how, in a small separated group of persons old and young,
held together by some kinship, there was, under the circum-
stances of pastoral life, an establishing of male descent, an
increasing of cohesion, of subordination, of co-operation,
industrial and defensive ; and that acquirement of structure
became relatively easy, because domestic government and
social government became identical Hence the genesis of a
simple society more developed than all preceding simple
societies, and better fitted for the composition of higher
societies.

Thus originated under special conditions, the patriarchal
group with its adapted ideas, sentiments, customs, arrange-
ments, dividing in successive generations into sub-groups
which, held together in larger or smaller clusters according as
the environment favoured, carried its organization with it
into the settled state ; and the efficient co-ordination evolved
within it, favoured efficient co-ordination of the larger socie-
ties formed by aggregation. Though, as we are shown by
partially-civilized kingdoms existing in Africa and by extinct
American kingdoms, primitive groups of less evolved struc-
tures and characterized by another type of family, may form
compound societies of considerable size and complexity ; yet
the patriarchal group with its higher family-type is induc-
tively proved to be that out of which the largest and most
advanced societies arise.

Into communities produced by multiplication of it, the
patriarchal group, carrying its supremacy of the eldest male,
its system of inheritance, its laws of property, its joint

712 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

worship of the common ancestor, its blood-feud, its complete
subjection of women and children, long retains its individu-
ality. But with these communities as with communities
otherwise constituted, combined action slowly leads to fusion;
the lines of division become gradually less marked ; and at
length, as Sir Henry Maine shows, societies which have the
family for their unit of composition pass into societies which
have the individual for their unit of composition.

This disintegration, first separating compound family
groups into simpler ones, eventually affects the simplest:
the members of the family proper, more and more acquire
individual claims and individual responsibilities. And this
wave of change, conforming to the general law of rhythm,
has in modern nations partially dissolved the relations of
domestic life and substituted for them the relations of social
life. Not simply have the individual claims and responsi-
bilities of young adults in each family, come to be recognized
by the State; but the State has, to a considerable degree,
usurped the parental functions in respect of children, and,
assuming their claims upon it, exercises coercion over them.

On looking back to the general laws of life, however, and
observing the essential contrast between the principle of
family life and the principle of social life, we conclude that
this degree of family disintegration is in excess, and will
hereafter be followed by partial re-integration.

CHAPTER X.

THE STATUS OF WOMEN.

§ 324 Perhaps in no way is the moral progress of man-
kind more clearly shown, than by contrasting the position of
women among savages with their position among the most
advanced of the civilized. At the one extreme a treatment
of them cruel to the utmost degree bearable ; and at the other
extreme a treatment which, in some directions, gives them
precedence over men.

The only limit to the brutality women are subjected to by
men of the lowest races, is their inability to live and propa-
gate under greater. Clearly, ill-usage, under-feeding, and
over-working, may be pushed to an extent which, if not
immediately fatal to the women, incapacitates them for
rearing children enough to maintain the population; and
disappearance of the society follows. Both directly and
indirectly such excess of harshness disables a tribe from
holding its own against other tribes ; since, besides greatly
augmenting the mortality of children, it causes inadequate
nutrition, and therefore imperfect development, of those
which survive. But short of this, there is at first no check
to the tyranny which the stronger sex exercises over the
weaker. Stolen from another tribe, and perhaps stunned by
a blow that she may not resist; not simply beaten, but
speared about the limbs, when she displeases her savage
owner ; forced to do all the drudgery and bear all the burdens,
while she has to care for and cany about her children ; and

714 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

feeding on what is left after the man has done ; the woman's
sufferings are carried as far as consists with survival of her-
self and her offspring.

It seems not improbable that by its actions and reactions,
this treatment makes these relations of the sexes difficult to
change ; since chronic ill-usage produces physical inferiority,
and physical inferiority tends to exclude those feelings which
might check ill-usage. Very generally among the lower
races, the females are even more unattractive in aspect than
the males. It is remarked of the Puttooahs, whose men are
diminutive and whose women are still more so, that " the men
are far from being handsome, but the palm of ugliness must
be awarded to the women. The latter are hard-worked and
apparently ill-fed." Of the inhabitants of the Corea, Gutzlaff
says — " the females are very ugly, whilst the male sex is one
of the best formed of Asia . . . women are treated like
beasts of burden." And for the kindred contrast habitually
found, a kindred cause may habitually be assigned: the
antithetical cases furnished by such uncivilized peoples as
the Kalmucks and Khirghiz, whose women, less hardly used
are better looking, yielding additional evidence.

We must not, however, conclude that this low status of
women among the rudest peoples, is caused by a callous selfish-
ness existing in the males and not equally existing in the
females. When we learn that where torture of enemies is the
custom, the women out-do the men — when we read of the
cruelties perpetrated by the two female Dyak chiefs described
by Brooke, or of the horrible deeds which Winwood Reade
narrates of a blood-thirsty African queen ; we are shown
that it is not lack of will but lack of power which prevents
primitive women from displaying natures equally brutal
with those of primitive men. A savageness common to the
two, necessarily works out the results we see under the con-
ditions. Let us look at these results more closely.

§ 325. Certain anomalies may first be noticed. Even

THE STATUS OF WOMEN. 715

among the rudest men, whose ordinary behaviour to their
women is of the worst, predominance of women is not un-
known. Snow says of the Fuegians that he has " seen one
of the oldest women exercising authority over the rest of hor
people ;" and of the Australians Mitchell says that old men
and even old women exercise great authority. Then we
have the fact that among various peoples who hold their
women in degraded positions, there nevertheless occur female
rulers ; as among the Battas in Sumatra, as in Madagascar,
and as in the above-named African kingdom. Possibly this
anomaly results from the system of descent in the female
line. For though under that system, property and power
usually devolve on a sister's male children; yet as, occa-
sionally, there is only one sister and she has no male children,
the elevation of a daughter may sometimes result. Even as
I write, I find, on looking into the evidence, a significant
example. Describing the Haidahs, Bancroft says : — " Among
nearly all of them rank is nominally hereditary, for the most
part by the female line. . . . Females often possess the right
of chieftainship."

But leaving exceptional facts, and looking at the average
facts, we find these to be just such as the greater strength of
men must produce, during stages in which the race has not
yet acquired the higher sentiments. Numerous examples
already cited, show that at first women are regarded by men
simply as property, and continue to be so regarded through
several later stages : they are valued as domestic cattle. A

Chippewayan chief said to Hearne : —

" Women were made for labour ; one of them can carry, or haul, as
much as two men can do. They also pitch our tents, make and mend
our clothing, keep us warm at night ; and, in fact, there is no such
thing as travelling any considerable distance, in this country, without
their assistance.0

And this is the conception usual not only among peoples so
low as these, but among peoples considerably advanced. To
repeat an illustration quoted from Barrow, the woman " is
her husband's ox, as a Kaffir once said to me — she has been

716 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONa

bought, he argued, and must therefore labour " and to the
like effect is Shooter's statement that a Kaffir who kills his
wife "can defend himself by saving — 'I haye bought her
once for all/ "

As implied in such a defence, the getting of wives by
abduction or by purchase, maintains this relation of the
sexes. A woman of a conquered tribe, not killed but
brought back alive, is naturally regarded as an absolute
possession ; as is also one for whom a price has been paid.
Commenting on the position of women among the Chibchas,
Simon writes — " I think the fact that the Indians treat their
wives so badly and like slaves, is to be explained by their
having bought them." Fully to express the truth, however,
we must rather say that the state of things, moral and social,
implied by the traffic in women, is the original cause ; since
the will and welfare of a daughter are as much disregarded
by the father who sells her as by the husband who buys her.
The accounts of these transactions, in whatever society
occurring, show this. Sale of his daughter by a Mandan, is
* conducted on his part as a mercenary contract entirely,
where he stands out for the highest price he can possibly
command for her." Among the ancient Yucatanese, "if a
wife had no children, the husband might sell her, unless her
father agreed to return the price he had paid." In East
Africa, a girl's " father demands for her as many cows, cloths,
and brass-wire bracelets as the suitor can afford. . • . The
husband may sell his wife, or, if she be taken from him by
another man, he claims her value, which is ruled by what
she would fetch in the slave-market" Of course where
women are exchangeable for oxen or other beasts, they are
regarded as equally without personal rights.

The degradation they are subject to during phases of
human evolution in which egoism is unchecked by altruism,
is, however, most vividly shown by the transfer of a deceased
man's wives to his relatives along with other property.
Already, in § 302, sundry examples of this have been given #

THE ST AT 178 OF WOMEN; 717

and many others might be added. Among the Mapuch<5s
"a widow, by the death of her husband, becomes her own
mistress, unless he may have left grown-up sons by another
wife, in which case she becomes their common concubine,
being regarded as a chattel naturally belonging to the heirs
of the estate/'

Thus recognizing the truth that as long as women con-
tinue to be stolen or bought, their human individualities
are ignored, let us observe the division of labour that results
between the sexes; determined partly by this unqualified
despotism of men and partly by the limitations which certain
incapacities of women entail.

§ 326. The slave-class in a primitive society consists of
the women ; and the earliest division of labour is that which
arises between them nnd their masters. Of course nothing
more is to be expected among such low peoples as Tas-
manians, Australians, Fuegians, Andamanese, Bushmen*
Nor do we find any advance in this respect made by the
higher hunting races, such as the Comanches, Chippewas,
Dacotahs.

Of the occupations thus divided, the males put upon tho
females whatever these are not disabled from doing by in-
adequate strength, or agility, or skill. While the men
among the now-extinct Tasmanians added to the food only
that furnished by the kangaroos they chased, the women
climbed trees for opossums, dug up roots with sticks, groped
for shell-fish, dived for oysters, and fished, in addition to
looking after their children ; and there now exists a kindred
apportionment among the Fuegians, Andamanese, Austra-
lians. Where the food consists mainly of the greater
mammals, the men catch and the women carry. We read
of the Chippewayans that "when the men kill any large
beast, the women are always sent to bring it to the tent;"
of the Comanches, that the women " often accompany their,
husbands in hunting. He kills the game, they butcher and

718 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

transport the meat, dress the skins, etc. ;" of the Esquimaux,
that when the man has " brought his booty to land, he
troubles himself no further about it; for it would be a
stigma on his character, if he so much as drew a seal out of
the water." Though, in these cases, an excuse made is that
the exhaustion caused by the chase is great ; yet, when we
read that the Esquimaux women, excepting the wood-work,
" build the houses and tents, and though they have to carry
stones almost heavy enough to break their backs, the men
look on with the greatest insensibility, not stirring a finger
to assist them," we cannot accept the excuse as adequate.
Further, it is the custom with these low races, nomadic or
semi-nomadic in their habits, to give the females the task of
transporting the baggage. A Tasmanian woman often had
piled on the other burdens she carried when tramping,
"sundry spears and waddies not required for present
service;" and the like happens with races considerably
higher, both semi-agricultural and pastoral. A Damara's
wife " carries his things when he moves from place to place."
When the Tupis migrate, all the household stock is taken to
the new abode by the females : " the husband only took his
weapons, and the wife ... is loaded like a mule." Enu-
merating their labours among the aborigines of South Brazil,
Spix and Martius say the wives " load themselves . . . like
beasts of burden ;" and Dobrizhoffer writes — " the luggage
being all committed to the women, the Abipones travel
armed with a spear alone, that they may be disengaged to
fight or hunt, if occasion require." Doubtless the reason
indicated in the last extract, is a partial defence for this
practice, so general with savages when travelling; since, if
surprised by ambushed enemies, fatal results would happen
were the men not ready to fight on the instant. And possibly
knowledge of this may join with the force of custom in
mitring the women themselves uphold the practice, as they
do.

On ascending to societies partially or wholly settled, and

THE STATUS OF WOMEN, 719

a little more complex, we begin to find considerable diver-
sities in the divisions of labour between the sexes. Usually
the men are the builders, but not always : the women erect
the huts among the Bechuanas, Kaffirs, Damaras, as also do
the women of the Outanatas, New Guinea ; and sometimes it
is the task of women to cut down trees, though nearly
always this business falls to the men. Anomalous as it
seems, we are told of the Coroados, that " the cooking of the
dinner, as well as keeping in the fire, is the business of the
men;" and the like happens in Samoa : " the duties of cook-
ing devolve on the men " — not excepting the chiefs. Mostly
among the uncivilized and semi-civilized, trading is done by
the men, but not always. In Java, " the women alone attend
the markets and conduct all the business of buying and
selling." So, too, in Angola the women " buy, sell, and do all
other things which the men do in other countries, whilst
their husbands stay at home, and employ themselves in
spinning, weaving cotton, and such like effeminate business."
In ancient Peru there was a like division: men did the
spinning and weaving, and women the field-work. Again, in
Abyssinia " it is infamy for a man to go to market to buy
anything. He cannot carry water or bake bread; but he
must wash the clothes belonging to both sexes, and, in this
function, the women cannot help him." Once more, among
certain Arabs "the females repudiate needlework entirely,
the little they require being performed by their husbands and
brothers."

From a general survey of the facts, multitudinous and
heterogeneous, thus briefly indicated, the only definite con-
clusion appears to be that men monopolize the occupations
requiring both strength and agility always available — war
and the chase. Leaving undiscussed the relative fitness of
women at other times for fighting enemies and pursuing
wild animals, it is clear that during the child-bearing period,
their ability to do either of these things is so far interfered
with, both by pregnancy and by the suckling of iniants,

720 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

that they are practically excluded from them. Though the
Dahomans with their army of amazons, show us that women
may be warriors ; yet the instance proves that women can be
warriors only by being practically unsexed; for, nominally
wives of the king, they are celibate, and any unchastity is
fataL But omitting those activities for which women are,
during large parts of their lives, physically incapacitated, or
into which they cannot enter in considerable numbers with-
out fatally diminishing population, we cannot define the
division of labour between the sexes, further than by saying
that, before civilization begins, the stronger sex forces the
weaker to do all the drudgery ; and that along with social
advance the apportionment, somewhat mitigated in character,
becomes variously specialized under varying conditions.

As bearing on the causes of the mitigation, presently to
be dealt with, we may here note that women are better
treated where circumstances lead to likeness of occupations
between the sexes. Schoolcraft says of the Chippewayans
that "they are not remarkable for their activity as hunters;
which is owing to the ease with which they snare deer and
spear fish ; and these occupations are not beyond the strength
of their old men, women, and boys ; " and then he also says
that " though the women are as much in the power of the
men as other articles of their property, they are always
consulted, and possess a very considerable influence in the
traffic with Europeans, and other important concerns." We
read, too, that " among the Clatsops and Chinooks, who live
upon fish and roots, which the women are equally expert
with the men in procuring, the former have a rank and
influence very rarely found among Indians, The females are
permitted to speak freely before the men, to whom, indeed,
they sometimes address themselves in a tone of authority." J
Then, again, " in the province of Cueba, women accompany
the men, fighting by their side and sometimes even leading
the van ; " and of this same people Wafer says " their hus-
bands are very kind and loving to them. I never knew an

THE STATUS OF WOMEN: 721

Indian beat his wife, or give her any hard words." A
kindred meaning is traceable in a fact supplied by the
Dahoman8, among whom, sanguinary and utterly unfeeling as
they are, the participation of women with men iA war gdes
along with a social status much higher than usual ; for
Burton remarks that in Dahomey " the woman is officially
superior, but under other conditions she still suffers from.
male arrogance."

A probable further cause of improvement in the treatment
of women may here be noted I refer to the obtaining*
of wives by services rendered, instead of by property paid.*
The practice which Hebrew tradition acquaints us with in.
the case of Jacob, proves to be a widely diffused practice.
It is general with the Bhils, Gonds, and Hill-tribes of
Nepaul ; it obtained in Java before- Mahometanism was
introduced; it was common in ancient Peru and Central
America ; and among sundry existing American races it still
occurs. Obviously, a wife long laboured for is likely to be
more valued than one stolen or bought. Obviously, too, the
period of service, during which the betrothed girl is looked
upon as a future spouse,, affords room for the growth of soma
feeling higher than the merely instinctive— initiates some-
thing approaching to the courtship and engagement of
civilized peoples. But the facts chiefly to be noted are —
first, that this modification, practicable with difficulty among
rude predatory tribes, becomes more practicable as there arise,
established industries affording spheres in which services
may be rendered ; and, second, that it is the poorer members
of the community, occupied in labour and unable to buy their
wives, among whom the substitution of service for purchase,
will most prevail: the implication being that this higher
form of marriage into which the industrial class is led,;
develops along with the industrial type.

And now we are introduced to the general question —

3 A

722 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS

What connexion is there between the stains of women and
the type of social organization f

§ 327. A partial answer was reached when we concluded
that there are natural associations between militancy and
polygyny and between industrialism and monogamy. For
as polygyny implies a low position of women, while mono-
gamy is a pre-requisite to a high position; it follows that
decrease of militancy and increase of industrialism, ore
general concomitants of a rise in their position. This con-
clusion appears also to be congruous with the fact just
observed. The truth that among peoples otherwise inferior,
the position of women is relatively good where their occu-
pations are nearly the same as those of men, seems allied
to the wider truth that their position becomes good in pro-
portion as warlike activities are replaced by industrial activi-
ties ; since, when the men fight while the women work, the
difference of occupation is greater than when both are
engaged in productive labours, however unlike such labours
may be in kind. From general reasons for alleging this con-
nexion, let us now pass to special reasons.

As it needed no marshalling of evidence to prove that the
chronic militancy characterizing low simple tribes, habitually
goes with polygyny ; so, it needs no marshalling of evidence
to prove that along with this chronic militancy there goes
brutal treatment of women. It will suffice if we glance at
the converse cases of simple tribes which are exceptional in
their industrialism and at the same time exceptional in the
higher positions held by women among them. Even the
rude Todas, low as are the sexual relations implied by their
Combined polyandry and polygyny, and little developed as is
the industry implied by their semi-settled cow-keeping life,
furnish evidence. To the men and boys are left all the harder
kinds of work, while the wives " do not even step out of doors
to fetch water or wood, which ... is brought to them by
one of their husbands ;" and this trait goes along with the

THE STATUS OF WOMEN. 723

trait of peacefulness and entire absence of the militant type
of social structure. Striking evidence is furnished by another
of the Hill-tribes — the Bodo and Dhimals. We have seen
that among peoples in low stages of culture, these furnish a
marked case of non-militancy, absence of the political organi-
zation which militancy develops, absence of class-distinctions,
and presence of tbat voluntary exchange of services implied
by industrialism ; and of them, monogamous as already
shown, we read — " The Bodo and Dhimals use their wives
and daughters well ; treating them with confidence and kind-
ness. They are free from all out-door work whatever." Take,
again, the Dyaks, who though not without tribal feuds and
their consequences, are yet without stable chieftainships and
military organization, are predominantly industrial, and have
rights of individual property well developed. Though among
the varieties of them the customs differ somewhat, yet the
general fact is that the heavy out-door work is mainly done
by the men, while the women are well treated and have con-
siderable privileges. With their monogamy goes courtship,
and the girls choose their mates. St John says of the Sea
Dyaks that " husbands and wives appear to pass their lives
very agreeably together;" and Brooke names Mukah as a
part of Borneo where the wives close their doors, and will
not receive their husbands, unless they procure fish. Then,
as a marked case of a simple community having relatively
high industrial organization, with elected head, representa-
tive council, and the other concomitants of the type, and who
are described as " industrious, honest, and peace-loving,"
we have the Pueblos, who, with that monogamy which
characterizes them, also show us a remarkable high status of
women. For among them not simply is there courtship with
exercise of choice by girls — not simply do we read that " no
girl is forced to marry against her will, however eligible her
parents may consider the match;" but sometimes "the usual
order of courtship is reversed : when a girl is disposed to
many she does not wait for a young man to propose to her,

3 a 2

724' DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS. -

but selects one to her own liking and consults her father*
who visits the parents of the youth and acquaints them with
his daughter's wishes."

On turning from simple societies to compound societies,
we find two adjacent ones in Polynesia exhibiting a strong
contrast between their social types as militant and industrial,
and an equally strong contrast between the positions they
respectively give to women. I refer to Fijians and Samoans.
The Fijians show us the militant structure, actions, and
sentiments, in extreme forms. Under an unmitigated despo-
tism there are fixed ranks, obedience the most profound,
marks of subordination amounting to worship ; there is a
well organized army with its grades of officers ; the lower
classes exist only to supply necessaries to the warrior
classes, whose sole business is war, merciless in its character
and accompanied by cannibalism. And here, along with
prevalent polygyny, carried among the chiefs to the extent
of from ten to a hundred wives, we find the position of
women such that, not only axe they, as among the lowest
savages, " little better than beasts of burden," and not only
may they be sold at pleasure, but a man may kill and eat his
wife if he pleases. Contrariwise, in Samoa the type of the
regulating system has become in a considerable degree in-
dustrial. There is representative government; chieftains,
exercising authority under considerable restraint, are partly
elective ; the organization of industry is so far developed that
there are journeymen and apprentices, payment for labour,
and even strikes with a rudimentary trades-unionism. And
here, beyond that improvement of women's status implied by
limitation of their labours to the lighter kinds, there is the
improvement implied by the fact that " the husband has to
provide a dowry, as well as the wife, and the dowry of
each must be pretty nearly of equal value," and by the fact
that a couple who have lived together for years, make, at
separation, a fair division of the property. Of other

compound societies fit for comparison, I may name two in

THE 8TATU8 Of WOMEN. 725

America — the Iroquois and the Araucanians. Though these,
alike in degree of composition, were both formed by combina-
tion in war against civilized invaders ; yet, in their social
structures, they differed in the respect that the Araucanians
became decidedly militant in their regulative organization,
while the Iroquois did not give their regulative organization
the militant form ; for the governing agencies, general and
local, were in the one personal and hereditary and in the
other representative. Now though these two peoples were
much upon a par in the division of labour between the sexes
— the men limiting themselves to war, the chase, and fishing,
leaving to the women the labours of the field and the house ;
yet along with the freer political type of the Iroquois there
went a freer domestio type ; as shown by the facts that the
women had separate proprietary rights, that they took with
them the children in cases of separation, and that marriages
were arranged by the mothers.

The highest societies, ancient and modern, are many of
them rendered in one way or other unfit for comparisons. In
some cases the evidence is inadequate; in some cases we
know not what the antecedents have been ; in some cases
the facts have been confused by agglomeration of different
societies; and in all cases the co-operating influences have
increased in number. Concerning the most ancient ones, of
which we know least, we can do no more than say that the
traits presented by them are not inconsistent with the view
here set forth. The Accadians, who before reaching

that height of civilization at which phonetic writing was
achieved, must have existed in a settled populous state for a
vast period, must have therefore had for a vast period a con-
siderable industrial organization ; and it is probable that
during such period, being powerful in comparison with
wandering tribes around, their social life, little perturbed by
enemies, was substantially peaceful. Hence there is no in-
congruity in the fact that they are shown by their records to
have given their women a relatively high statu*. Wives

72G domestic iNSTmmoNa

owned property, and the honouring of mothers was especially
enjoined by their laws. Of the Egyptians some-

thing similar may be said. Their earliest wall-paintings show
us a people far advanced in arts, industry, observances, mode
of life. The implication is irresistible that before the stage
thus exhibited, there must have been a long era of rising
civilization ; and their pictorial records prove that they had
long led a life largely industrial So that though the militant
type of social structure evolved during the time of their con-
solidation, and made sacred by their form of religion, con-
tinued; yet industrialism had become an important factor,
-influencing greatly their social arrangements, and diffusing
its appropriate sentiments and ideas. Concomitantly the
position of women was relatively good. Though polygyny
existed it was unusual ; matrimonial regulations were strict
and divorce difficult ; " married couples lived in full commu-
nity ;" women shared in social gatherings as they do in oar
own societies ; in sundry respects they had precedence over
men ; and, in the words of Ebers, " many other facts might
be added to prove the high state of married life."

Ancient Aryan societies illustrate well the relationship
between the domestic rSgime and the political regime. The
despotism of an irresponsible head, which characterizes the
militant type of structure, characterized alike the original
patriarchal family, the cluster of families having a common
ancestor, and the united clusters of families forming the
early Aryan community. As Mommsen describes him, the
early Roman ruler once in office, stood towards the citizens
in the same relation that the father of the family did to wife,
children, and slaves. " The regal power had not, and could
not have, any external checks imposed upon it by law : the
master of the community had no judge of his acts within the
community, any more than the house-father had a judge
within his household. Death alone terminated his power."
From this first stage, in which the political head was abso-
lute, and absoluteness of the domestic head went to the

THB 8TATU8 OF WOMEN. 727

extent of life-and-death power over his wife, the advance
towards a* hjgber status of women was doubtless, as Sir H.
Makie contends, largely caused by that disintegration of the
family which went along with the progressing union of
smaller societies into larger ones effected by conquest But
though successful militancy thus furthered female emancipa-
tion, it did so only by thereafter reducing the relative amount
of militancy; and the emancipation was really associated
with an average increase of industrial structures and activi-
ties. As before pointed out, militancy is to be measured not
so much by success in war as by the extent to which war
occupies the male population. Where all men are warriors
and the work is done entirely by women, militancy is the
greatest. The introduction of a class of males who, joining
in productive labour, lay the basis for an industrial organiza-
tion, qualifies the militancy. And as fast as the ratio of the
free industrial class to the militant class increases, the total
activities of the society must be regarded as more industrial
and less militant Otherwise, this truth is made manifest on
observing that when many small hostile societies are con-
solidated by triumph of the strongest, the amount of fight-
ing throughout the area occupied becomes less, though the
conflicts now from time to time arising with neighbouring
larger aggregates may be on a greater scale. This is clearly
seen on comparing the ratio of fighting men to population
among the early Romans, with the ratio between the armies
of the Empire and the number of people included in the
Empire. And there is the further fact that the holding
together of these compound and doubly-compound societies
eventually formed by conquest, and the efficient co-operation
of their parts for. military purposes, itself implies an increased
development of the industrial organization. Vast armies
carrying on operations at the periphery of an extensive terri-
tory, imply a large working population, a considerable division
of labour, and good appliances for transferring supplies : the
sustaining and distributing systems must be well elaborated

728 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

before great militant structures can be worked. So that this
disintegration of the patriarchal family, and consequent
emancipation of women, which went along with growth of
the Soman Empire, really had for its concomitant a develop-
ment of the industrial organization.

$ 328. In other ways a like relation of cause and effect is
shown us during the progress of European societies since
Roman times.

Respecting the status of women in mediaeval Europe, Sir

Henry Maine says : —

" There can be no serious question that, in its ultimate result, the
disruption of the Roman Empire was very unfavourable to the personal
and proprietary liberty of women. I purposely say ' in its ultimate
result,' in order to avoid a learned controversy as to their position
-under purely Teutonic customs. n

Now leaving open the question whether this conclusion
applies beyond those parts of Europe in which institutions
of Soman origin were least affected by those of Germanic
origin, we may, I think, on contrasting the condition of
-things before the fall of the Empire and the condition after,
infer a connexion between this decline in the status of women
and a return to greater militancy. For while Rome domi-
nated over the populations of large areas, there existed
throughout them a state of comparative internal peace;
whereas its failure to maintain subordination was followed
by universal warfare. And then, after that decline in the
position of women which accompanied this retrograde
increase of militancy, the subsequent improvement in their
position went along with aggregation of small feudal
governments into larger ones; which had the result that
within the consolidated territories the amount of diffused
fighting decreased.

Comparisons between the chief civilized nations as now
existing, yield verifications. Note, first, the fact, significant
of the relation between political despotism and domestic
despotism, that, according to Legouve, the first Napoleon

THE 8TATUS OF WOKEN. 729

said to the Council of State "un mari doit avoir tin empire
absoltt sur les actions de sa femme ;" and sundry provisions
of the Code, as interpreted by Pothier, cany out this dictum.
Further, note that, according to the Vicomte de Sdgur, the
position of women in France declined under the Empire;
and " it was not only in the higher ranks that this nullity
of women existed. . . . The habit of fighting filled men
with a kind of pride and asperity which made them often
forget even the regard which they owed to weakness."
Passing over less essential contrasts now presented by tho
leading European peoples, and considering chiefly the status
as displayed in the daily lives of the poor rather than tho
rich, it is manifest that the mass of women have harder lots
where militant organization and activity predominate, than
they have where there is a predominance of industrial
organization and activity. The sequence observed by
travellers in Africa, that in proportion as the men are
occupied in war more labour falls on the women, is a
sequence which both France and Germany show us. Social
sustentation has to be achieved in some way ; and the more
males are drafted off for military service, the more females
must be called on to fill their places as workers. Hence the
extent to which in Germany women are occupied in rough
out-of-door tasks — digging, wheeling, carrying burdens;
hence the extent to which in France heavy field-operations
are shared in by women. That the English housewife is less
a drudge than her German sister, that among shopkeepers in
England she is not required to take so large a share in the
business as she is among shopkeepers in France, and that in
^England the out-of-door work done by women is both smaller
in quantity and lighter in kind than on the Continent, is
clear; as it is clear that this difference is associated with a
lessened demand on the male population for purposes of
offence and defence. And then there may be added the fact
of kindred meaning, that in the United States, where till the
late war the degree of militancy had been so small, and the

730 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

industrial type of social structure and action so predominant,
women have reached a higher status than anywhere else.

Evidence furnished by existing Eastern nations supports
this view. China, with its long history of wars causing
consolidations, dissolutions„re-consolidations, etc., going back
more than 2,000 years B.C., and continuing during Tatar and
Mongol conquests to be militant in its activities, has, not-
withstanding industrial growth, retained the militant type of
structure; and absolutism in the State has been accom-
panied by absolutism in the family, qualified in the one as
in the other, only by the customs and sentiments which
industrialism has fostered: wives are bought; concubinage
is common among the rich; widows are sometimes sold as
concubines by fathers-in-law ; and women join in hard work,
sometimes to the extent of being harnessed to the plough;
while, nevertheless, this low status is practically raised by a
public opinion which checks the harsh treatment legal 'y
allowable. Japan, too, after passing through long periods of
internal conflict, acquired an organization completely mili-
tant, under which political freedom was unknown, and then
showed a simultaneous absence of freedom in the household
— buying of wives, concubinage, divorce at mere will of the
husband, crucifixion or decapitation for wife's adultery;
while, along with the growth of industrialism characterizing
the later days of Japan, there went such improvement in the
legal status of women that the husband was no longer
allowed to take the law into his own hands in case of
adultery; and now, though women are occasionally seen
using the flail, yet mostly the men " leave their women to
the lighter work of the. house, and perform themselves the
harder out-door labour."

§ 329. It is of course difficult to generalize phenomena
into the production of which enter factors so numerous and
involved — character of race, religious beliefs, surviving
customs and traditions, degree of culture, eta; and doubtless

THB 8TATUS OF WOMEN. 731

the many co-operating causes give rise to incongruities
which qualify somewhat the conclusion drawn. But, on
summing up, we shall I think see it to be substantially true.

The least entangled evidence is that which most distinctly
presents this conclusion to us. Bemembering that nearly all
simple uncivilized societies, having chronic feuds with
their neighbours, are militant in their activities, and that
their women are extremely degraded in position, the fact
that in the exceptional simple societies which are peaceful
and industrial, there is an exceptional elevation of women,
almost alone suffices as proof: neither race, nor creed, nor
culture, being in these cases an assignable cause.

The connexions which we have seen exist between mili-
tancy and polygyny and between industrialism and mono-
gamy, exhibit the same truth under another aspect; since
polygyny necessarily implies a low status of women, and
monogamy, if it does not necessarily imply a high status, is
an essential condition to a high status.

Further, that approximate equalization of the sexes in
numbers which results from diminishing militancy and in-
creasing industrialism, conduces to the elevation of women;
since, in proportion as the supply of males available for
carrying on social sustentation increases, the labour of
social sustentation falls less heavily on the females. And it
may be added that the societies in which these available
males undertake the harder labours, and so, relieving the
females from undue physical tax, enable them to produce
more and better offspring, will, other things equal, gain in th9
struggle for existence with societies in which the women are
not thus relieved. Whence an average tendency to the
spread of societies in which the status of women is improved.

There is the fact, too, that the despotism distinguishing a
community organized for war, is essentially connected with
despotism in the household; while, conversely, the freedom
which characterizes public life in an industrial community,
naturally characterizes also the accompanying private life.

732 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

In the one case compulsory co-operation prevails in both; in
the other case voluntary co-operation prevails in both.

By the moral contrast we are shown another face of the
same fact Habitual antagonism with, and destruction of,
foes, sears the sympathies ; while daily exchange of products
and services among citizens, puts no obstacle to increase of
fellow-feeling. And the altruism which grows with peaceful
co-operation, ameliorates at once the life without the house-
hold and the life within the household.*

• Since this chapter was written, I have met with s> striking verification
in the work of Mr. W. Mattiea Williams,— Throve* Norway with JMm*.
He says, " there are no people in the world, however refined, among whom
the relative position of man and woman is more favourable to the latter than
among the Lapps." After giving eridenee from personal observation, he
asks the reason, saying : — " Is it because the men are not warriors ? . . .
They hare no soldiers, fight no battles, either with outside foreigners, or
between the various tribes and families among themselves. ... In spite
of their wretched huts, their dirty faces, their primitive clothing, their
ignorance of literature, art, and science, they rank above us in the highest
element of true civilisation, the moral element ; and all the military nations
of the world may stand uncovered before them " (pp. 162*3).

CHAPTER XL

THE STATUS OF CHILDREN.

5 330. That brutes, however ferocious, treat their offspring
tenderly, is a familiar fact ; and that tenderness to offspring
is shown by the most brutal of mankind, is a fact quite con-
gruous with it An obvious explanation of this seeming
anomaly exists. As we saw that the treatment of women by
men cannot pass a certain degree of harshness without causing
extinction of the tribe ; so here, we may see that the tribq
must disappear unless the love of progeny is strong. Henco
we need not be surprised when Mouat, describing the Anda-
man Islanders, says " Mincopie parents show their children
the utmost tenderness and affection ;" or when Snow says of
the Fuegians that both sexes are much attached to their
offspring ; or when Sturt described Australian fathers and
mothers as behaving to their little ones with much fondness.
Affection intense enough to prompt great self-sacrifice, is,
indeed, especially requisite under the conditions of savage life,
which render the rearing of young difficult ; and maintenance
of such affection is insured by the dying out of families in
which it is deficient

But this strong parental love is, like the parental love of
animals, very irregularly displayed. As among brutes the
philoprogenitive instinct is occasionally suppressed by the
desire to kill, and even to devour, their young ones ; so among
primitive men this instinct is now and again over-ridden by

734 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

impulses temporarily excited. Though attached to their off-
spring, Australian mothers, when in danger, sometimes desert
them ; and if we may believe Angas, men have been known
to bait their hooks with the flesh of boys they have killed
Notwithstanding their marked parental affection, Fuegians
sell their children for slaves. Among the Chonos Indians, a
father, though doting on his boy, will kill him in a fit of
anger for an accidental offenca Everywhere among the
lower races we meet with like incongruities, Falkner, while
describing the paternal feelings of Patagonians as very strong,
says they often pawn and sell their wives and little ones to
the Spaniards for brandy. Speaking of the Sound Indians
and their children, Bancroft says they " sell or gamble them
away.*' The Pi-Edes " barter their children to the Utes
proper, for a few trinkets or bits of clothing." And among
the Macusi, " the price of a child is the same as the Indian
asks for his dog."

This seemingly-heartless conduct to offspring, often arises
from the difficulty experienced in rearing them. To it the
infanticide so common among the uncivilized and semi*
civilized, is mainly due — the burial of living infants with
mothers who have died in childbirth ; the putting to death
one out of twins ; the destruction of younger children when
there are already several For these acts there is an excuse
like that commonly to be made for killing the sick and old
When, concerning the desertion of their aged members by
wandering prairie tribes, Catlin says — " it often becomes abso-
lutely necessary in such cases that they should be left, and
they uniformly insist upon it, saying, as this old man did, that
they are old and of no further use, that they left their fathers
in the same manner, that they wish to die, and their children
must not mourn for them " — when, of the " inhabitants
bordering on Hudson's Bay," Heriot tells us that in his old
age " the father usually employed as his executioner, the son
who is most dear to him " — when, in Kane, we read of the
Assiniboine chief who w killed his own mother" because

^^^T

THE 8TATU8 OF CHttDBEN. 735

feeing M old and feeble," she " asked him to take pity on her
and end her misery ; " there is suggested the conclusion that
as destruction of the ill and infirm may lessen the total
amount of suffering to be borne under the conditions of
savage life, so may infanticide! when the region is barren or
the mode of life hard And a like plea may be urged in
mitigation of judgment on savages who sell or barter away
their children.

Generally, then, among uncivilized peoples, as among
animals, instincts and impulses are the sole incentives and
deterrents. The status of a primitive man's child is like that
of a bear's cub. There is neither moral obligation nor moral
restraint ; but there exists the unchecked power to foster, to
desert, to destroy, as love or anger moves.

§ 331. To the yearnings of natural affection are added in
early stages of progress, certain motives, partly personal,
partly social, which help to secure the lives of children ; but
which, at the same time, initiate differences of status between
children of different sexes. There is the desire to strengthen
the tribe in war; there is the wish to have a future avenger
on individual enemies ; there is the anxiety to leave behind,
one who shall perform the funeral rites and continue the
periodic oblations at the grave.

Inevitably the urgent need to augment the number of
warriors leads to preference for male children. On reading
of such a militant race as the Chechemecas, that they "like
much their male children, who are brought up by their
fathers, but they despise and hate the daughters ; " or of the
Panches, that when " a wife bore her first girl child, they
killed the child, and thus they did with all the girls born
before a male child ;" we are shown the effect of this desire
for sons ; and everywhere we find it leading either to destruc-
tion of daughters, or to low estimation and ill-usage of them.
Through long ascending stages of progress the desire thus
arising persists ; as witness the statement of Herodotus, that

736 domestic iNsmunoNa

every Persian prided himself on the number of his sons, and
that an annual prize was given by the monarch to the one
who could show most sons living. Obviously the social
motive, thus coming in aid of the parental motive, served to
raise the status of male children above that of female.

A reason for the care of sons implied in the passage o{
JEcdesiasticus which says, "he left behind him an avenger
against his enemies/' is a reason which has weighed with all
races in barbarous and semi-civilized states. The sacred duty
of blood-revenge, earliest of recognized obligations among
men, survives so long as societies remain predominantly
warlike ; and it generates an anxiety to have a male repre-
sentative who shall retaliate upon those from whom injuries
have been received. This bequest of quarrels to be fought
out, traceable down to recent times among so-called
Christians, as in the will of Brantdme, has of course all
along raised the value of sons, and has put upon the harsh,
treatment of them, a check not put upon the harsh treatment
of daughters : whence a further differentiation of status.

The development of ancestor-worship, which, requiring i
each man to make sacrifices at the tombs of his immediate
and more remote male progenitors, implies anticipation oi
like sacrifices to his own ghost by his son, initiates yet
another motive for cherishing male children rather than
females. The effects of this motive are at the present time
shown us by the Chinese ; among whom the death of an only
son is especially lamented, because there will be no one to
make offerings at the grave, and among whom the peremptory
need for a son, hence arising, justifies the taking of a concu-
bine, though, if a person has sons by his wife (for daughters
never enter into the account) it is considered derogatory to
take a handmaid at alL On recalling Egyptian wall-paint-
ings and papyri, and the like evidence furnished by Assyrian
records, showing that sacrifices to ancestors were made by
their male descendants — on remembering, too, that among
ancient Aryans, whether Hindu, Greek, or Roman, the

TJE STATUS OF CIULDREX. 737

daughter was incapable of performing such rites ; we are
shown how this developed form of the primitive religion,
while it strengthened filial subordination, added an incentive
to parental care — of sons but not of daughters.

In brief, then, the relations of adults to young among
human beings, originally like those among animals, began
to assume higher forms under the influence of the several
desires — first to obtain an aider in fighting enemies, second to
provide an avenger for injuries received, and third to leave
behind one who should administer to welfare after death:
motives which, strengthening as societies passed through their
early stages, enforced the claims of male children, but not
those of female children. And thus we again see how inti-
mate is the connexion between militancy of the men and
degradation of the women.

§ 332. Here we are introduced to the question — what
relation exists between the status of children and the form of
social organization ? To this the reply is akin to one given
in the last chapter; namely that mitigation of the treat-
ment of children accompanies transition from the militant
type to the industrial type.

Those lowest social states in which offspring are .now
idolized, now killed, now sold, as the dominant feeling
prompts, are states in which hostilities with surrounding
tribes are chronic. This absolute dependence of progeny on
parental will, is shown whether the militancy i» that of
archaic groups or that of groups higher in structure. In the
latter as in the former, there exists that life-and-death power
over children which is the negation of all rights and claims.
On comparing children's status in the rudest militant tribes,
with their status in militant tribes which are patriarchal and
compounded of the patriarchal, all we can say to the
advantage of the last is that the still-surviving theory
becomes qualified in practice, and that qualification of it
increases as industrialism grows. Note the evidence.

3 B

738 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

The Fijtans, intensely despotic in government and ferocious
in war, furnish an instance of extreme abjectness in the
position of children. Infanticide, especially of females,
reaches nearer two-thirds than one-half; they " destroy their
infants from mere whim, expediency, anger, or indolence;"
and " children have been offered by the people of their own
tribe to propitiate a powerful chief," not for slaves but for
food. A sanguinary warrior-race of Mexico, the Chichimecs,
yield another example of excessive parental power: sons
" cannot marry without the consent of parents ; if a young
man violates this law • . . the penalty is death." By this
instance we are reminded of the domestic condition among
the ancient Mexicans (largely composed of conquering
cannibal Chichimecs), whose social organization was highly
militant in type, and of whom Clavigero says— "their
children were bred to stand so much in awe of their parents,
that even when grown up and married, they hardly durst
speak before them." In ancient Central America family-role
was similar; and in ancient Peru it was the law " that sons
should obey and serve their fathers until they Beached the age
of twenty-five."

If we now turn to the few uncivilized and semi-civilized
societies which are wholly industrial, or predominantly in*
dustrial, we find children, as we found women, occupying
much higher positions. Among the peaceful Bodo and
Dhim&s, " infanticide is utterly unknown ;" daughters are
treated " with confidence and kindness : " to which add the
reciprocal trait that "it is deemed shameful to leave old
parents entirely alone." With the nearly-allied Kocch,
similarly peaceful, when marriages are being arranged then
is a ''consulting the destined bride." The Dyaks, again,
largely industrial and having an unmilitant social structure,
yield the fact that " infanticide is rarely heard of," as well as
the facts before named under another head, that children
have the freedom implied by regular courtship, and that
girls choose their mates. We are told of the Samoans, who

THE STATUS OF CHILDREN. 739

are more industrial in social type than neighbouring
Malayo-Polynesians, that infanticide after birth is unknown,
and that children have the degree of independence implied
by elopements, when they cannot obtain parental assent to
their marriage. Similarly of the Negritos inhabiting the
island of Tanna, where militancy is slight and there are no
pronounced chieftainships, Turner writes: — * the Tannese are
fond of their children. No infanticide there. They allow
them every indulgence, girls as well as boys." Lastly, there
is the case of the industrial Pueblos, whose children were
unrestrained in marriage, and by whom, as we have seen,
daughters were especially privileged.

Thus with a highly militant type there goes extreme
subjection of children, and the status of girls is still lower
than that of boys ; while in proportion as the type becomes
non-militant, there is not only more recognition of children's
claims, but the recognized claims of boys and girls approach
towards equality.

§ 333. Kindred evidence is supplied by those societies
which, passing through the patriarchal forms of domestic
and political government, have evolved into large nations.
Be the race Turanian, Semitic, or Aryan, it shows us the
same connexion between political absolutism over subjects
and domestic absolutism over children.

In China destruction of female infants is common ; parents
sell their children to be slaves ; in marriage " the parents of
the girl always demand for their child a price." " A union
prompted solely by love would be a monstrous infraction of
the duty of filial obedience, and a predilection on the part
of a female as heinous a crime as infidelity." Their maxim
is that, as the Emperor 'should have the care of a father for
his people, a father should have the power of a sovereign
over his family. Meanwhile it is observable that thi^
legally-unlimited paternal power descending from militant
times, and persisting along with the militant type of social

3 B 2

740 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS,

structure, has come to be qualified in practice by sentiments
which the industrial type fosters. Infanticide, reprobated by
proclamation, is excused only on the plea of poverty,
joined with the need for rearing a male child ; and public
opinion puts checks on the actions of those who buy
children. With that militant organization which,

during early wars, became highly developed among the
Japanese, similarly goes great filial subjection. Mitfoid
admits that needy people "sell their children to be
waitresses, singers, or prostitutes;" and Sir Kutherford
Alcock, too, says that parents "have undoubtedly in some
cases, if not in all, the power to sell their children." It may
be added that the subordination of young to old irrespective
of sex, is greater than the subordination of females to males ;
for abject as is the slavery of wife to husband, yet, after his
death, the widow's power " over the son restores the balance
and redresses the wrong, by placing woman, as the mother,
far above man, as the son, whatever his age or rank." And
the like holds among the Chinese.

How among primitive Semites the father exercised capital
jurisdiction, and how along with this there went a lower
status of girls than of boys, needs no proof. But as further
indicating the parental and filial relation, I may name
the fact that children were considered so much the property
of the father, that they were seized for his debts (2 Kings iv.
1 ; Job xxiv. 9) ; also the fact that selling- of daughters was
authorized {Exodus xxi. 7) ; also the fact that injunctions
respecting the treatment of children referred exclusively to
their father's benefit : instance the reasons given in EccUm*
ticus, chap, xxx., for chastising sons. Though some qualification
of paternal absolutism arose during the later settled stages of
the Hebrews, yet along with persistence of the militant
type of government there continued extreme filial sub-
ordination.

Already in the chapter on the Family, when treating of
the Romans as illustrating both the social and domestic

THE STATUS OF CHILDREN. 7-41

organization possessed by the Aryans when conquering
Europe, something has been implied respecting the status of
children among them. In the words of Mommsen, rela-
tively to the father, " all in the household were destitute of
legal rights — the wife and child no less than the bullock or
the slave." He might expose his children. The religious
prohibition which forbade it, "so far as concerned all the
sons— deformed births excepted — and at least the first
daughter," was without civil sanction. He "had the right
and duty of exercising over them judicial powers, and of
punishing them as he deemed fit, in life and limb," Ho
might also sell his child. And then mark that the same
industrial development which we saw went along with
improvement in the position of women during growth of the
Roman Empire, went along with improvement in the position
of children. I may add that in Greece there were allied
manifestations of paternal absolutism. A man could be-
queath his daughter, as he could also his wife,

§ 334. If, again, we compare the early states of existing
European peoples, characterized by chronic militancy, with
their later states, characterized by a militancy less constant
and diffused, and an increased industrialism, differences of
like significance meet us.

We have the statement of Caesar concerning the Celts of
Gaul, that fathers " do not permit their children to approach
them openly until they have grown to manhood." In the
Merovingian period a father could sell his child, as could also
a widowed mother — a power which continued down to the
ninth century or later. Under the decayed feudalism which
preceded the French Revolution, domestic subordination
especially among the aristocracy, was still such that,
Chateaubriand says — "my mother, my sister, and myself,
transformed into statues by my father's presence, used only
to recover ourselves after he left the room ;" and Taine,
quoting Beaumarchais aud Sestif de la Bretonne, indicates

742 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

that this rigidity of paternal authority was general Then,
after the Revolution, theVicomte de Segur writes: — "Among
our good forefathers a man of thirty was more in subjec-
tion to the head of the family than a child of eighteen is
now."

Our own history furnishes kindred evidence. Describing
manners in the fifteenth century, Wright says : — u Young
ladies, even of great families, were brought up not only
strictly, but even tyrannically. . . . The parental authority
was indeed carried to an almost extravagant extent." Down
to the seventeenth century, " children stood or knelt in
trembling silence in the presence of their fathers and
mothers, and might not sit without permission." The litera-
ture of even the last century, alike by the use of " sir " and
" madam" in addressing parents, by the authority parents
assumed in arranging marriages for their children, and by the
extent to which sons and still more daughters, recognized the
duty of accepting the spouses chosen, shows us a persistence
of filial subordination proportionate to the political subordi-
nation. And then, during this century, along with immense
development of industrialism and the correlative progress
towards a freer type of social organization, there has gone a
marked increase of juvenile freedom ; as shown by a greatly
moderated parental dictation, by a mitigation of punishments,
and by that decreased formality of domestic iutercoui-so
which has accompanied the changing of fathers from masters
into friends.

Differences having like meanings are traceable between the
more militant and the less militant European societies as now
existing. The relatively-developed industrial type of politi-
cal organization in England, is associated with a treatment of
children less coercive than in France and Germany, where
industrialism has modified the political organizations less.
Joined to great fondness for, and much indulgence of, the
young, there is in France a closer supervision of them, and
the restraints on their actions are both stronger and mo^e

THE STAIUS OF CHILDREN. 743

numerous : girls at home are never from under maternal
control, and boys at school are subject to military discipline.
Moreover parental oversight of marriageable children still
goes so far that little opportunity is afforded for choice by
the young people themselves. In Germany, again, there is a
stringency of rule in education allied to the political strin-
gency of rule. As writes to me a German lady long resident
in England, and experienced as a teacher, — " English children
are not tyrannized over — they are guided by their parents.
The spirit of independence and personal rights is fostered. I
can therefore understand the teacher who said he would
rather teach twenty German [children], than one English
child — I understand him, but I do not sympathize with him.
The German child is nearly a slave compared to the English
child ; it is therefore more easily subdued by the one in
authority."

Lastly come the facts that in the United States, long
characterized by great development of the industrial organi-
zation little qualified by the militant, parental government
has become extremely lax, and girls and boys are nearly on a
par in their positions : the independence reached being such
that young ladies form their own circles of acquaintances
and carry on their intimacies without let or hindrance from
their fathers and mothers.

§ 335. As was to be anticipated, we thus find a series of
changes in the status of children parallel to the series of
changes in the status of women.

In archaic societies, without laws and having customs ex-
tending over but some parts of life, there are no limits to the
powers of parents ; and the passions, daily exercised in con-
flict with brutes or men, are restrained in the relations to
offspring only by the philoprogenitive instinct.

Early the needs for a companion in arms, for an avenger,
and for a performer of sacrifices, add to the fatherly feeling
other motives, personal and social, tending to give something

744 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

like a status to male children ; but leaving female children
still in the same position as are the young of brutes.

These relations of father to son and daughter, arising in
advanced groups of the archaic type, and becoming more
settled where pastoral life originates the patriarchal group,
continue to characterize societies that remain predominantly
militant, whether evolved from the patriarchal group or other-
wise. Victory and defeat, which express the outcome of
militant activity, have for their correlatives despotism and
slavery in military organization, in political organization, and
in domestic organization*

The status of children, in common with that of women,
rises in proportion as the compulsory co-operation character-
izing militant activities, becomes qualified by the voluntary
co-operation characterizing industrial activities. We see
this on comparing the militant uncivilized peoples with
others that are not militant; we see it on comparing the
early militant states of civilized nations with their later
more industrial states ; we see it on comparing civilized
nations that are now relatively militant with those that are
now relatively industrial

Most conclusively, however, is the connexion shown on
grouping the facts antithetically thus: — On the one hand,
savage tribes in general, chronically militant, have, in
common with the predominantly militant great nations of
antiquity, the trait that a father has life-and-death power
over his children* On the other hand, the few uncivilized
tribes which are peaceful and industrial, have, in common
with the most advanced civilized nations, the traits that
children's lives are sacred and that large measures of freedom
are accorded to both boys and girls.

CHAPTEK XIL

DOMESTIC KETROSPECT AND PROSPECT.

§ 336. Induction has greatly predominated over deduction
throughout the foregoing chapters; and readers who have
borne in mind that Part II closes with a proposal to inter-
pret social phenomena deductively, may infer either that
this intention has been lost sight of or that it has proved
impracticable to deal with the facts of domestic life otherwise
than by empirical generalization. On gathering together tho
threads of the argument, however, we shall find that the
chief conclusions forced on us by the evidence are those
which Evolution implies.

We have first the fact that the genesis of the family fulfils
the law of Evolution under its leading aspects. In the rudest
social groups nothing to be called marriage exists : the unions
are extremely incoherent. Family-groups, each consisting
of a mother and such children as can be reared without
permanent paternal assistance, are necessarily small and soon
dissolve : integration is slight Within each group the rela-
tionships are less definite ; since the children are mostly
half-brothers or half-sisters, and the paternity is often uncer-
tain. From such primitive families, thus small, incoherent,
and indefinite, there arise, in conformity with the law of
Evolution, divergent and redivergent types of families — some
characterized by a mixed polyandry and polygny ; some that
are polyandrous, differentiating into the fraternal and non-

746 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

fraternal ; some that are polygynous, differentiating into
those composed of wives and those composed of a legitimate
wife and concubines; some that are monogamous, among
which, besides the ordinary form, there is the aberrant form
distinguished by a wife married only for a part of each week.
Of these genera and species of families, those which are
found in advanced societies are the most coherent, most
definite, most complex. Not to dwell on intermediate types,
we see on contrasting the primitive kind of family-group
with that highest kind of family-group which civilized
peoples present, how relatively great is the evolution of the
last The marital relation has become quite definite ; it has
become extremely coherent — commonly lasting for life ; in
its initial form of parents and children it has grown larger
(the number, of children reared by savages being compara-
tively small); in its derived form, comprehending grand-
children, great grand-children, etc, all so connected as to
form a definable cluster, it has grown relatively very large ;
and this large cluster consists of members whose relationships
are very heterogeneous.

Again, the developing human family fulfils, in increasing
degrees, those traits which we saw at the outset are traits of
the successively- higher reproductive arrangements throughout
the animal kingdom. Maintenance of species being the end
to which maintenance of individual lives is necessarily sub-
ordinated, we find, as we ascend in the scale of being, a
diminishing sacrifice of individual lives in the achievement
of this end ; and as we ascend through the successive grades
.of societies with their successive forms of family, we find a
further progress in the same direction. Human races of the
lower types as compared with those of the higher, show us a
greater sacrifice of the adult individual to the species ; alike
in the brevity of that stage which precedes reproduction, in
the relatively-heavy tax entailed by the rearing of children
under the conditions of savage life, and in the abridgment of
ijxe period that follows: women especially, early bearing

D0ME8TIC BETBOSPECT AND PBOSPECT. 747

children and exhausted by the toils of maternity, having a
premature old age soon rut short In superior types of
family, juvenile life is also less sacrificed : infanticide, which
in the poverty-stricken groups of primitive men is dictated by
the necessities of social self-preservation, becomes rarer ; and
mortality of offspring otherwise caused, lessens at the same
time. Further, along with decreasing sacrifice of adult life
there goes increasing compensation for the sacrifice that has
to be made : more prolonged and higher pleasures are taken
in rearing progeny. Instead of states in which children are
early left to provide for themselves, or in which, as among
Bushmen, fathers and sons who quarrel try to kill one another,
or in which, as Burton says of the East Africans, " when
childhood is past, the father and son become natural enemies,
after the manner of wild beasts ; " there comes a state in
which keen interest in the welfare of sons and daughters
extends throughout parental life. And then to this pleasur-
able care of offspring, increasing in duration as the family
develops, has to be added an entirely new factor— the
pleasurable care of parents by offspring: a factor which,
feeble where the family is rudimentary and gaining strength
as the family develops, serves in another way to lessen the
sacrifice of the individual to the species, and begins, contrari-
wise, to make the species conduce to the more prolonged life,
as well as to the higher life, of the individual

A fact not yet named remains. Evolution of the higher
types of family, like evolution of the higher types of society,
has gone hand in hand with evolution of human intelligence
and feeling. The general truth that there exists a necessary
connexion between the nature of the social unit and the
nature of the social aggregate, and that each continually
moulds and is moulded by, the other, is a truth which holds
of domestic organization as well as of political organization.
The ideas and sentiments which make possible any more
advanced phase of associated life, whether in the Family or
in .the State, imply a preceding phase by the experiences and

748 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

discipline of which they were acquired ; and these, again, a
next preceding phase ; and so from the beginning. On turn-
ing to the Principles of Psychology (edition of 1872), contain-
ing chapters on " Development of Conceptions," " Sociality
and Sympathy," " Ego- Altruistic Sentiments," " Altruistic
Sentiments," the reader will find it shown how the higher
mental faculties, made possible only by an environment such
as social life furnishes, evolve as this environment evolves-*
each increment of advance in the one being followed by an
increment of advance in the other. And he will see the
implication to be that since altruism plays an important part
in developed family life, the superior domestic relations have
become possible only as the adaptation of man to the social
state has progressed.*

§ 337. In considering deductively the connexions between
the forms of domestic life and the forms of social life ; and in
showing how these are in each type of society related to one
another because jointly related to the same type of individual
character; it will be convenient to deal simultaneously with
the marital arrangement, the family structure, the status of
women, and the status of children.

Primitive life, cultivating antagonism to prey and enemies,
brute or human — daily yielding the egoistic satisfaction of
conquest over alien beings — daily gaining pleasure from acts
which entail pain ; maintains a type of nature which gene-
rates coercive rule, -social and domestic Brute strength
glorying in the predominance which brings honour, and un-
checked by regard for other's welfare, seizes whatever women
fancy prompts and abandons them at wilL And children, at
the mercy of this utter selfishness, are preserved only when,
and as far as, the instinct of parenthood predominates.

* As included in the general theory of the adaptation of organic beings to
their circumstances, this doctrine that the human mind, especially iu it*
moral traits, is moulded by the social state, pervades Social Static* ; and i*
especially Lulled upon in the chapter entitled " General Con. ideiattons."

DOMESTIC RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 749

Clearly, then, weakness of the marital relation, indefinite
incoherent forms of family, harsh treatment of women, and
infanticide, are naturally concomitants of militancy in its
extreme form.

Advance from these lowest social groups, hardly to be
called societies, to groups that are larger, or have more struc-
ture, or both, implies increased co-operation. This co-opera-
tion may be compulsory or voluntary, or it may be, and
usually is, partly the one and partly the other. We have
seen that militancy implies predominance of compulsory
co-operation, and that industrialism implies predomin-
ance of voluntary co-operation. Here we have to observe
that it is deductively manifest, as we have found it induc-
tively true, that the accompanying domestic relations are
in each case congruous with the necessitated social rela-
tions. The individual nature which, exercising
that despotic control, and submitting to that extreme subjec-
tion, implied by pronounced militancy in developing societies,
— an individual nature at the same time continually hard-
ened by a life devoted to war, inevitably determines the
arrangements within the household as it does the arrange-
ments without it Hence the disregard of women's claims
shown in stealing and buying them ; hence the inequality of
status between the sexes entailed by polygyny; hence the
use of women as labouring slaves ; hence the life-and-death
power over wife and child; and hence that constitution of
the family which subjects all its members to the eldest
male. Conversely, the type of individual nature
developed by voluntary co-operation in societies that are
predominantly industrial, whether they be peaceful, simple
tribes, or nations that have in great measure outgrown mili-
tancy, is a relatively-altruistic nature. The daily habit of
exchanging services, or giving products representing work
done for money representing work done, is a habit of seeking
such egoistic satisfactions only as allow like egoistic satisfac-
tions to those dealt with. There is an enforced respect for

730 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

others' claims ; there is an accompanying mental representa-
tion of their claims, implying, in so far, fellow-feeling ; and
there is an absence of those repressions of fellow-feeling
involved by coercion. Necessarily, the type of character
thus cultivated, while it modifies social actions and arrange-
ments, modifies also domestic actions and arrangements.
The discipline which brings greater recognition of the claims
of fellow-men, brings greater recognition of the claims of
women and children. The practice of consulting the wills of
those with whom there is co-operation outside the household,
brings with it the practice of consulting the wills of those
with whom there is co-operation inside the household. The
marital relation becomes changed from one of master and
subject into one of approximately-equal partnership; while
the bond becomes less that of legal authority and more that
of affection. The parental and filial relation ceases to be a
tyranny which sacrifices child to parent, and becomes one in
which, rather, the will of the parent subordinates itself to the
welfare of the child.

Thus the results deducible from the natures of militancy
and industrialism, correspond with those which we have
found are, as a matter of fact, exhibited. And, as implying
the directness of the alleged connexions, I may here add an
instance showing that in the same society the domestic rela-
tions in the militant part retain the militant character, while
the domestic relations in the industrial part are assuming the
industrial character. Commenting on the laws of inheritance
in ancient France, as affecting children of different sexes and
different ages, Koenigswarter remarks that " it is always the
feudal and noble families which cling to the principle of
inequality, while the ideas of equality penetrate everywhere
into the roturier and bourgeois families." Similarly Thierry;
speaking of a new law of the thirteenth century, equalizing
rights of property between the sexes and among children,
says : — " This law of the bourgeoisie, opposed to that of the

DOMESTIC RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 751

nobles, was distinguished from it by its very essence. It had
far its basis natural equity."

§ 336. And now we come to the interesting question —
What may be inferred respecting the future of the domestic re-
lations ? We have seen how the law of evolution in general,
has been thus far fulfilled in the genesis of the family.
We have also seen how, during civilization, there has been
carried still further that conciliation of the interests of the
species, of the parents, and of the offspring, which has been
going on throughout organic evolution at large. Moreover,
we have noted that these higher traits in the relations of the
sexes to one another and to children, which have accompanied
social evolution, have been made possible by those higher
traits of intelligence and feeling produced by the experiences
and disciplines of progressing social states. And we have
lastly observed the connexions between special traits so
acquired and special types of social structure and activity.
Assuming, then, that evolution will continue along the same
lines, let us consider what further changes may be anticipated.

It is first inferable that throughout times to come, the
domestic relations of different peoples inhabiting different
parts of tbe Earth, will continue to be unlike. We must
beware of supposing that developed societies will become
universal- As with organic evolution, so with super-organic
evolution, the production of higher forms does not involve
extinction of all lower forms. As superior species of animals,
while displacing certain inferior species which compete with
them, leave many other inferior species in possession of
inferior habitats; so the superior types of societies, while
displacing those inferior types occupying localities they can
utilize, will not displace inferior types inhabiting barren or
inclement localities. Civilized peoples are unlikely to expel
the Esquimaux. The Fuegians will probably survive, because
their island cannot support a civilized population. It is

752 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

questionable whether the groups of wandering Semites who
have for these thousands of years occupied Eastern deserts,
will be extruded by nations of higher kinds. And perhaps
many steaming malarious regions in the Tropics will remain
unavailable by races capable of much culture. Hence the
domestic, as well as the social, relations proper to the lower
varieties of man, are not likely to become extinct. Polyandry
may survive in Thibet ; polygyny may prevail throughout the
future in parts of Africa ; and among the remotest groups of
Hyperboreans, mixed and irregular relations of the sexes will
probably continue.

It is possible, too, that in certain regions militancy may
persist; and that along with the political relations natural
to it there may survive the domestic relations natural to it
Wide tracts, such as those of North-Eastern Asia, unable to
support populations dense enough to form industrial societies
of advanced types, will perhaps remain the habitats of so-
cieties having those imperfect forms of State and Family
which go along with offensive and defensive activities.

Omitting such surviving inferior types, let us limit our-
selves to types carrying further the evolution which civilized
nations now show. Assuming that among these industrialism
will increase and militancy decrease, we have to ask what
are the domestic relations likely to co-exist with complete
industrialism.

§ 339. The monogamic form of the sexual relation is
manifestly the ultimate form ; and any changes to be antici-
pated must be in the direction of completion and extension
of it By observing what possibilities there are of greater
divergence from the arrangements and habits of the past*
we shall see what modifications are probable.

Many acts that are normal with the uncivilized, are, with
the civilized, transgressions and crimes. Promiscuity, once
unchecked, has been more and more reprobated as societies
have progressed ; abduction of women, originally Lonourable,

DOMESTIC RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 753

is now criminal ; the marrying of two or more wives, allowable
4md creditable in inferior societies, has become in superior
societies felonious. Hence, future evolution along lines thus
far followed, may be expected to extend the monogamic rela-
tion by extinguishing promiscuity, and by suppressing such
crimes as bigamy and adultery. Dying out of the mercantib
element in marriage may also be inferred. After wife-stealing
came wife-purchase; and then followed the usages which
made, and continue to make, considerations of property pre-
dominate over considerations of personal preference. Clearly,
wife-purchase and husband-purchase (which exists in some
semi-civilized societies), though they have lost their original
gross forms, persist in disguised forms. Already some dis-
approval of those who marry for money or position is
expressed; and this, growing stronger, may be expected to
purify the monogamic union by making it in all cases real
instead of being in many cases nominal.

As monogamy is likely to be raised in character by a
public sentiment requiring that the legal bond shall not be
entered into unless it represents the natural bond ; so, per-
haps, it may be that maintenance of the legal bond will come
to be held improper if the natural bond ceases. Already
increased facilities for divorce point to the probability that
whereas, while permanent monogamy was being evolved, the
union by law (originally the act of purchase) was regarded as
the essential part of marriage and the union by affection as
non-essential; and whereas at present the union by law is
thought the more important and the union by affection the
less important ; there will come a time when the union by
affection will be held of primary moment and the union by
law as of secondary moment: whence reprobation of marital
relations in which the union by affection has dissolved. That
this conclusion will be at present unacceptable is likely — I
may say, certain. In passing judgment on any arrangement
suggested as likely to arise hereafter, nearly all err by
considering what would result from the supposed change

3 c

754 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

other things remaining unchanged. But other things must
be assumed to have changed pari passu. Those higher senti*
ments accompanying union of the sexes, which do not exist
among primitive men, and were less developed in early
European times than now (as is shown in the contrast
between ancient and modern literatures), may be expected
to develop still more as decline of militancy and growth of
industrialism foster altruism ; for sympathy, which is the
root of altruism, is a chief element in these sentiments,
Moreover, with an increase of altruism must go a decrease of
domestic dissension* Whence, simultaneously, a strengthen*
ing of the moral bond and a weakening of the forces tending
to destroy it So that the changes which may further facili-
tate divorce under certain conditions, are changes which will
make those conditions more and more rare.

There may, too, be anticipated a strengthening of that
ancillary bond constituted by joint interest in children. In
all societies this is an important factor, which has sometimes
great effect among even rude peoples. Falkner remarks that
though the Patagonian marriages " are at will, yet when onoe
the parties are agreed, and have children, they seldom forsake
each other, even in extreme old age." And this factor must
become more efficient in proportion as the solicitude for
children becomes greater and more prolonged; as we have
seen that it does with progressing civilization, and will
doubtless continue to do.

But leaving open the question what modifications of
monogamy conducing to increase of real cohesion rather
than nominal cohesion, are likely to arise, there is one con-
clusion we may draw with certainty. Recurring to the
three ends to be subserved in the order of their importance
— welfare of species, welfare of offspring, welfare of pareuts;
and seeing that in the stages now reached by civilized
peoples, welfare of species is effectually secured in so far
as maintenance of numbers is concerned; the implication
is that welfare of offspring must hereafter determine the

DOMESTIC BETUOSPECT AND PROSPECT. 755

course of domestic evolution* Societies which from genera-
tion to generation produce in due abundance individuals
who, relatively to the requirements, are the best physically,
morally, and intellectually, must become the predominant
societies; and must tend through the quiet process of
industrial competition to replace other societies. Conse-
quently, marital relations which favour this result in the
greatest degree, must spread; while the prevailing senti-
ments and ideas must become so moulded into harmony with
them that other relations will be condemned as immoral,

§ 340. If, still guiding ourselves by observing the course
of past evolution, we ask what changes in the status of
women may be anticipated, the answer must be that a
further approach towards equality of position between the
sexes will take place. With decline of militancy and rise
of industrialism — with decrease of compulsory co-operation
and increase of voluntary co-operation — with strengthening
sense of personal rights and accompanying sympathetic
regard for the personal rights of others; must go. a diminu-
tion of the political and domestic disabilities of women, until
there remain only such as differences of constitution entail.

To draw inferences more specific is hazardous: probabilities
and possibilities only can be indicated. While in some direc-
tions the emancipation of women has to be carried further,
we may suspect that in other directions their claims have
already been pushed beyond the normal limits. If from that
Stage of primitive degradation in which they were habitually
stolen, bought and sold, made beasts of burden, inherited as
property, and killed at will, we pass to the stage America
shows us, in which a lady wanting a seat stares at a gentle-
man occupying one until he surrenders it, and then takes it
without thauking him; we may infer that the rhythm
traceable throughout all changes has carried this to an
extreme from which there will be a recoiL The like may
be said of some other cases: what were originally concessions

3 C 2

756 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

have come to be claimed as rights, and in gaining the charac-
ter of assumed rights, have lost much of the grace they had
as concessions. Doubtless, however, there will remain in the
social relations of men and women, not only observances of a
kind called forth by sympathy of the strong for the weak
irrespective of sex, -and still more called forth by sympathy
of the stronger sex for the weaker sex ; but also observances
which originate in the wish, not consciously formulated but
felt, to compensate women for certain disadvantages entailed
by their constitutions, and so to equalize the lives of the
sexes as far as possible.

In domestic life, the relative position of women will doubt-
less rise; but it seems improbable that absolute equality
with men will be reached. Legal decisions from time to
time demanded by marital differences, involving the question
which shall yield, are not likely to reverse all past decisions.
Evenlv though law may balance claims, it will, as the least
evil, continue to give, in case of need, supremacy to the hus-
band, as being the more judicially-minded. And, similarly,
in the moral relations of married life, the preponderance of
power, resulting from greater massiveness of nature, must,
however unobtrusive it may become, continue with the man.

When we remember that up from the lowest savagery,
civilization has, among other results, caused an increasing
exemption of women from bread-winning labour, and that in
the highest societies they have become most restricted to
domestic duties and the rearing of children; we may be
struck by the anomaly that in our days restriction to indoor
occupations has come to be regarded as a grievance, and a
claim is made to free competition with men in all outdoor
occupations. This anomaly is traceable in part to the
abnormal excess of women ; and obviously a state of things
which excludes many women from those natural careers in
which they are dependent on men for subsistence, justifies
the demand for freedom to pursue independent careers. That
hindrances standing in their way should be, and will be,

DOMESTIC EETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 75?

abolished must be admitted At the same time it must be
concluded that no considerable alteration in the careers of
women in general, can be, or should be, so produced; and
further, that any extensive change in the education of women,
made with the view of fitting them for businesses and pro*
fessions, would be mischievous. If women comprehended all
that is contained in the domestic sphere, they would ask no
other. If they could see everything which is implied in the
right education of children, to a full conception of which no
man has yet risen, much less any woman, they would seek no
higher function*

That in time to come the political status of women may be
raised to something like equality with that of men, seems a
deduction naturally accompanying the preceding ones. But
such an approximate equalization, normally accompanying a
social structure of the completely industrial type, is not a
normal accompaniment of social types still partially militant.
Just noting that giving to men and women equal amounts of
political power, while the political responsibilities entailed by
war fell on men only, would involve a serious inequality, and
that the desired equality is therefore impracticable while
wars continue ; it may be contended that though the posses-
sion of political power by women might improve a society in
which State-regulation had been brought within the limits
proper to pure industrialism, it would injure a society in
which State-regulation has the wider range characterizing
a more or less militant type. Several influences would con-
duce to retrogression. The greater respect for authority and
weaker sentiment of individual freedom characterizing the
feminine nature, would tend towards the maintenance and
multiplication of restraints. Eagerness for special and im-
mediate results, joined with inability to appreciate genera1
and .remote results, characterizing the majority of men and
still more characterizing women, would, if women had power,
entail increase of coercive measures for achieving present
good, at the cost of future evil caused by excess of control.

758 DOMESTIC INSTITUTIONS.

But there is ft more direct reason for anticipating mischief
from the exercise of political power by women, while the
industrial form of political regulation is incomplete. We
have seen that the welfare of a society requires that the
ethics of the Family and the ethics of the State shall be kept
distinct. Under the one the greatest benefits must be given
where the merits are the smallest ; under the other the bene*
fits must be proportioned to the merits. For the infant un-
qualified generosity ; for the adult citizen absolute justice.
Now the ethics of the family are upheld by the parental
instincts and sentiments, which, in the female, are qualified
in a smaller degree by other feelings than in the male.
Already these emotions proper to parenthood as they exist
in men, lead them to carry the ethics of the Family into the
policy of the State; and the mischief resulting would he
increased were these emotions as existing in women, directly
to influence that policy. The progress towards justice in
social arrangements would be retarded ; and demerit would
be fostered at the expense of merit still more than now.

But in proportion as the conceptions of pure equity be-
come clearer — as fast as the rSgime of voluntary co-operation
develops to the full the sentiment of personal freedom, with
a correlative regard for the like freedom of others — as fast as
there is approached a state under which no restrictions on
individual liberty will be tolerated, save those which the
equal liberties of fellow-citizens entail — as fast as indus-
trialism evolves its appropriate political agency, which, while
commissioned to maintain equitable relations among citizens,
is shorn of all those powers of further regulation characteriz-
ing the militant type; so fast may the extension of political
power to women go on without evil The moral evolution
which leads to concession of it, will be the same moral evo-
lution which renders it harmless and probably beneficial

§ 341. No very specific conclusions are to bo drawn re-
specting future changes in the stalus of children.

DOMESTIC RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 759

While an average increase of juvenile freedom may bo
anticipated, we may suspect that in some cases the increase
has already gone too far. I refer to the United States.
Besides often unduly subordinating the lives of adults, the
independence there allowed to the young, appears to have
the effect of bringing them forward prematurely, giving
them too early the excitements proper to maturity, and so
tending to exhaust the interests of life before it is half spent.
Such regulation of childhood as conduces to full utilization
of childish activities and pleasures before the activities and
pleasures of manhood and womanhood are entered upon,
is better for offspring at the same time that it is better
for parents.

How far is parental authority to go ? and at what point
shall political authority check it? are questions to be
answered in no satisfactory way. Already I have given
reasons for thinking that the powers and functions of
parents have been too far assumed by the State; and that
probably a re-integration of the family will follow its present
undue disintegration. Still there remain the theoretical
difficulties of deciding how far the powers of parents over
children may be carried; to what extent disregard of
parental responsibilities is to be tolerated; when does the
child cease to be a unit of the family and become a unit
of the State. Practically, however, these questions will need
no solving ; since the same changes of character which bring
about the highest form of family, will almost universally
prevent the rise of those conflicts between authorities and
between obligations, which habitually result from characters
of lower types belonging to lower societies.

Moreover, there always remains a security. Whatever
conduces to the highest welfare of offspring must more and
more establish itself; since children of inferior parents reared
in inferior ways, will ever be replaced by children of better
parents reared in better ways. As lower creatures at large
have been preserved and advanced through the instru-

J

760 DOMESTIC INSnTUTTOKS.

mentality of. parental instincts; and as in the course of
human evolution the domestic relations originating from
the need for prolonged care of offspring have been assuming
higher forms; and as the care taken of offspring has been
becoming greater and more enduring; we need not doubt
that in the future, along with the more altruistic nature
accompanying a higher social type, there will come relations
of parents and children needing no external control to ensure
their well- working.

§ 342. One further possibility of domestic evolution re-
mains. The last to show itself among the bonds which hold
the family together — the care of parents by offspring — is the
one which has most room for increase. Absent among
brutes, small among primitive men, considerable among
the partially civilized, and tolerably strong among the best
of those around us, filial affection is a feeling that admits of
much further growth ; and this is needed to make the cycle
of domestic life complete. At present the latter days of the
old whose married children live away from them, are made
dreary by the lack of those pleasures yielded by the constant
society of descendants ; but a time may be expected when
this evil will be met by an attachment of adults to their
aged parents, which, if not as strong aa that of parents to
children, approaches it in strength.

Further development in this direction will not, however,
occur under social arrangements which partially absolve
parents from the care of offepring. A stronger affection to
be displayed by child for parent in later life, must be estab-
lished by a closer intimacy between parent and child in
early life. No such higher stage is to be reached by walking
in the ways followed by the Chinese for these two thousand
years. We shall not rise to it by imitating, even partially,
the sanguinary Mexicans, whose children at the age of four,
or sometimes later, were delivered over to be educated by
the priests. Family-feeling will not be improved by ap-

DOMESTIC RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 761

proaching towards the arrangements of the Koo3sa-Kaffirs,
among whom "all children above ten or eleven years old
are publicly instructed under the inspection of the chief."
Tliis latest of the domestic affections will not be fostered by
retrograding towards customs like those of the Andamanese,
and, as early as possible, changing the child of the family
into the child of the tribe. Contrariwise, such a progress
will be achieved only in proportion as mental and physical
culture are carried on by parents to an extent now rarely
attempted. When the minds of children are no longer
stunted and deformed by the mechanical lessons of stupid
teachers — when instruction, instead of giving mutual pain
gives mutual pleasure, by ministering in proper order to
faculties which are eager to appropriate fit conceptions
presented in fit forms — when among adults wide-spread
knowledge is joined with rational ideas of teaching, at the
same time that in the young there is an easy unfolding of
the mind such as is even now shown by exceptional facility
of acquisition — when the earlier stages of education passed
through in the domestic circle have come to yield, as they
will in ways scarcely dreamed of at present, daily occasions
for the strengthening of sympathy, intellectual and moral,
then will the latter days of life be smoothed by a greater
filial care, reciprocating the greater parental care bestowed in
earlier life.

EFD OF VOL. !•

APPENDICES.

APPENDIX A.

FURTHER ILLUSTRATIONS OF PRIMITIVE THOUGHT.

[To avoid over-burdening the text with illustrations — even now,
perhaps, too numerous — I suppressed many that I might have added :
some because they seemed superfluous ; some because they were too
long. Partly to give the more striking of these, I make this Appen-
dim; but chiefly to add evidence which has since come to light,
verifying certain of the conclusions not adequately supported.

The foregoing paragraph stands as it did in the first edition.
I have now to add that in this revised third edition, I have largely
increased this Appendix by including many further illustrations
which reading ana inquiry have brought to my knowledge. Joined
with those before given, these additional illustrations, as now arranged,
form so coherent a body of evidence, that even by themselves they
would go far to establish the general doctrine set forth in the pre-
ceding volume.]

Primitive Credulity.— Tn the genesis of superstitions, a factor
difficult to appreciate sufficiently, is the unquestioning faith wiih
which statements are accepted. Here are some cases.

Of the Coast Negroes, Winterbottom says (vol. i, p. 255) —

"So strongly are they persuaded of the efficacy of these means of protec-
tion [amulets, etc.], that an African, a man of rery superior mind, offered to
allow a friend of mine, whose accuracy he had just been praising, to fire at
him with a pistol, charged with ball."

Laird and Oldfield tell us of the Inland Negroes (vol. ii,
pp. 10, 11), that a Nuffi woman —

"imagined that she possessed a maghony (charm), which rendered her invul-
nerable to all edge tools an«l cutting instruments. So positive and convinced
was she of the efficacy of her charm, that she voluntarily assented to hold
her leg while some person should strike it with an axe. The king (or chief)
of her town, on hearing this, determined to try the power of her charm,
and desired a man to take an axe, and see whether this wonderful mag hong
would protect her from its effects. . . . Her leg was laid upon a block, and
a powerful blow given below the knee. ... To the poor woman's great
horror and the terror of all present, her leg flew to the other side of the

room."

To this absolute confidence in dogmas impressed by senior*!
during early life, must be ascribed the readiness with which

76G APPENDIX A.

attendants, wives, and even friends, kill themselves at a funeral
that they may join the deceased in the other world. The instance
named by Bancroft (vol. i, p. 288) of the Walla Walla chieftain
who " caused himself to be buried alive in the grave with the
last of his five sons/' reminding ns of the Fijians and Tannese
who go cheerfully to their voluntary deaths, vividly illustrates
this trait which makes monstrous creeds possible.

No evidence shakes such beliefs. Disproofs are evaded by
asserting beliefs equally absurd. Speaking of a distant stump
mistaken for a man, an Australian said to Mr, Cameron —
" That fellow was a gumatch [ghost], only when you came up
he made himself like a stump " (Anthropol. Inst. Jour., vol. xiv,
p. 363).

Natural Illusions.— -In § 53, 1 argued that these probably aid
in strengthening those conceptions of things which the primi-
tive man forms. How they thus play a part is shown in

lay a part
. 72, 73 :—

Vambery's Sketches of Central Asia, pp

"As we were crowing the high plateau of Kaflan Kir, which forma part of
Ustyort, running towards the nortn-east, the horizon was often adorned with
the most beautiful Fata Morgana. This phenomenon is undoubtedly to be
seen in the greatest perfection in the hot, but dry, atmosphere of the deserts
of Central Asia, and affords the most splendid optical illusions which one can
imagine. I was always enchanted with these pictures of cities, towers, and
castles dancing in the air, of vast caravans, horsemen engaged in combat* and
individual gigantic forms which continually disappeared from one place to
reappear in another. As for my nomad companions, they regarded the neigh-
bourhoods where these phenomena are observed with no little awe. According
to their opinion these are ghosts of men and cities which formerly existed
there, and now at certain times roll about in the air."

This account recalls the descriptions given by the uncultured
among ourselves of the northern aurora : similarly showing, as
it does, that an excited imagination gives definiteness to indefinite
f orm8 ; for it does not seem possible that in the remote regions
indicated by V&mbery, there can have been any such thing as a
Fata Morgana derived from an actual city. Among ourselves,
especially in troubled times, unusual displays of the Aurora
Borealis are described by superstitious people as the conflicts of
armies in the heavens.

Not only has hypothesis an effect conspicuous to all in per*
verting judgment, but it has an effect, less manifest but still
decided, in perverting perception. Elsewhere I have given ex-
amples of this effect (Essays, first series, original edition, p. 412),
and doubtless they have been observed by many. If hypothesis
thus perturbs perception during states of mental calm, still
more does it perturb it during states of mental excitement —
especially those produced by fear. The faintest suggestion
proceeding either from within or from without, then imposes

APPENDIX A. 767

itself so strongly on the mind that true perception becomes
scarcely possible. It needs but to remember that recognition of
a thing as such or snch, is a mental act in which imagination
always plays a large part, by adding to the mere visual im-
pressions those many ideas which constitute a conception of the
thing giving the impressions, to see that when, in a state of
fright, imagination is pnt on a wrong track, association readily
furnishes all those attributes which are needful to fill up the
framework which the appearance yields ; and consciousness once
filled with the alarming conception, can with difficulty be brought
back to that relatively passive state required for receiving the
actual impressions, and rightly interpreting them.

Hence where there exists that primitive credulity exemplified
above, the rectifying of a perception thus distorted by imagina-
tion cannot be expected. Minds having those traits set forth in
the chapter entitled " The Primitive Man, Intellectual " — minds
which have had no culture giving them tendencies towards criti-
cism and scepticism — minds which have no notion of a natural
order, of law, of cause ; are minds which can make no resistance
to any suggested idea or interpretation. There is no organized
experience to produce hesitation. There is no doubt taking the
shape — " This cannot be," or — " That is impossible." Con-
scquently, a fancy once having got possession, retains possession,
and becomes an accepted fact. If we always carry with us
the remembrance of this attitude of mind, we shall see how
apparently reasonable to savages are explanations of things
which they make.

Some Early Interpretations. — If we set out with the truth
that the laws of mind are the same throughout the animal king-
dom, we shall see that from the behaviour of animals in presence
of unfamiliar phenomena, we may obtain some clue to the inter*
pretations which primitive men make of such phenomena. A
brute, even of great power and courage, betrays alarm in presence
of a moving object the like of which it has never seen before.
The assertion that a tiger has been known to show fear of a
mouse in his cage, is made more credible than it would else be
by watching a dog when there is placed before him some such
creature as a small crab. Dread of the unknown appears to
be a universal emotion — even when the unknown is not at all
portentous in character.

Stranger and enemy are almost synonymous in the minds of
brutes and of primitive men. By inherited effects of expe-
riences the connexion of ideas has been made organic ; as an
infant in arms shows us when an unfamiliar face makes it cry,
though in its own life no evil has ever followed the sight of an
unfamiliar face. While " familiarity breeds contempt " oven of

768 appendix A.

the vast or of the powerful, unusualness breeds fear even of
that which is relatively small or feeble.

On the one hand, then, a periodic event which is intrinsi-
cally very imposing, excites bnt little attention if no mischief
has ever been joined with it; while, on the other hand, an
event not intrinsically imposing, if it has never before been
witnessed, and especially if it seems to show the spontaneity
indicative of life, arouses a sense of insecurity. As was shown
in Chapter IX of Part I, it is by the spontaneity of their
acts that living objects are conspicuously distinguished from
dead objects ; and hence this trait becomes the sign of an ability
to do various things besides that which is witnessed — to do,
therefore, something which may prove injurious or fatal.

Carrying with us this conception of the attitude common to
animal intelligence and uninstructed human intelligence, we
Bhall see why certain regularly recurring phenomena of an
astonishing kind, such as the daily appearance and disappear,
ance of the Sun, excite in the primitive man neither surprise nor
speculation ; at the same time that a phenomenon which unex-
pectedly breaks the ordinary course of things by a sound or
motion, produces dismay, followed by some vague suggestion of
an agent: the agent thought of being one having some likeness
to agents disclosed by past experiences. Hence the tendency
to ascribe any irregularly recurring phenomenon to a living
creature (the actions of living creatures being irregular), and,
primarily, to a living creature differing in the least degree
possible from living creatures of known kinds. Observe some
samples of these early interpretations. Of a place in the
Chippeway country, Catlin says—

" Near this spot, also, on a high mound, is the ( Thunder's ntst ' (»t"rf-<f«-
tonnere), where ( a very small bird sits upon her eggs during fair weather,
and the skies are rent with bolts of thunder at the approach of a »torm,
which is occasioned by the hatching of her brood ! ' n (Geo. Catlin, Illustra-
tions, etc., of the North American India**, voL H, p. 164.)

Of an allied race, the Ojibways, we read : —

" No one seemed fortunate enough to discover the resort of these great
birds, which were called Ah-ne-nw-keeg (Thunders)." . . . "These birds
are seldom seen, but are often heard in the skies, where they fly higher
than they once did. . . . They wink, and the fire flashes from their ejee."
(G-. Cop way, The Traditional History and Characteristic Sketches of the
Ojibway Nation, pp. 110, 113.)

So, too, concerning the Western Indians of North America,
Mr. H. A. Boiler tells us that his companion, " the Bob- tail-
Wolf "—

«

" said that there was, high in air, far out of sight, flying continually and
never resting, an eagle of terrible size. . . . He flaps his wir.gs, and loud
peals of thunder roll over the prairie ; when he winks his eyes, it lightens.1*
{Among the Indians, p. 257.)

APPENDIX A. W9

By a distant unallied people, the Karens,, the* cause of storms
is said to be an animal "with bat-like wings." "When it
utters its voice, it thunders, and when it flaps its wings, fire
is produced, and it lightens." (Mason,. Jour*. Asiatic Socy.
Bengal, xxxiv, Part 2, p. 217.)

Now a thunderstorm being ene of those incidents cha-
racterised by an apparent spontaneity suggestive of living
agency, the question which naturally arises is — "What is the
living agent r" The 6ky is the region* in which this sudden
action is witnessed. The* living- agent is therefore inferred to
be some creature which frequents the sky — a flying creature,
bird-like or bat-like. Here let us note two things. First there
is formed in the mind a simple association between this incident
which by its character suggests living agency, and a living agent
such as is commonly seen in the neighbourhood of its occurrence.
Second, the conceived agent is not of the kind we call super-
natural— does not belong to a supposed spiritual world ; but is a
purely natural agent. And the obvious course of thought is one
that brings the actions observed into- the same category with
the actions of the living creatures supposed to be instrumental :
wind being ascribed to the- flapping of wings* sound to this
cause or to a voice, and lightning* to the flashing of eyes.

In a different though allied elass, stand the interpretations of
eclipses. Among uncultured peoples,, animals are generally the
assigned agents ; and though they are not flying animals, yet
they are animals supposed to be in the heavens. Remembering
that various savages, as instance the Esquimaux, believe beasts
as well as men have access to the sky from the mountain-tops —
remembering the Cahroc story given in § 189, of the coyote
who thus got among the stars ; we may see how it happens that
when imagining some living agent which produces this sudden
chango in the Sun by taking out a piece from his side, savages
should think of a beast as the cause. Naturally enough " the
Esthonians say the sun or moon ' is being eaten * " (Grimm,
Teutonic Myth., vol. ii, p. 707) ; since the being eaten accounts
alike for the gradual disappearance, and for the sharp outline of
the increasing gap made. We find kindred, interpretations in
many places. By the Guaranis "eclipses were held to be
occasioned by a jaguar and a great dog, who pursued the sun
and moon to devour them " (Sou they, History of Brazil, vol. ii,
pp. 371-2). The Norse mythology tells of " Managarmr (moon-
dog) ; " and on the occasion of an eclipse the Norse " fancied
the monster had already got a part of the shining orb between
his jaws" (Grimm, Teutonic Myth., vol. ii, p. 706). We read
of the remote Chiquitos of South America, that " during an
erlipse [of the moon] they shoot arrows upward, and cry aloud
to drive away the dogs, who, they believe, hunt her through

3 D

770 APPENDIX A.

heaven ; and when they overtake her, the darkness of the orb is
eaueed by the blood which rune from ber wounds " (Southey,
History of Brazil, vol. i, p. 335). Evidently, then, this explana-
tion arises naturally in primitive minds. The kindred, and yet
different, explanation of the Nootka-Sound people, who, on the
occasion of an eclipse " pointed to the moon, and said that a
great cod-fish was endeavouring to swallow her" (Jewitt,
Narrative of Captivity among the Savages of Nootka Sound,
p. 165), and the similar belief current among the Arabs, that
a huge fish pursues the planet which is eclipsed (Niebuhr,
Description de V Arabic, p. 106), may possibly result from tbo
conception of waters above the firmament in which great fisii
reside. But, in any case, we see in these interpretations, as in
those of thunderstorms, that there is as near an assimilation as
may be to the natural actions of natural agents. There is
neither any thought of a deity as the cause, nor of anything to
be classed as Rpiritaal power.

Take next the interpretations given in different places of
earthquakes. Kaempfer says the Japanese " are of opinion, that
the cause of earthquakes is a huge whale's creeping under-
ground" (History of Japan, Pinker ton* 8 Voyages, vol. vii, pp.
C84r-5). Now whether or not it is trne that, as Dr. Tylor
suggests, the finding of large fossil bones, implying the
occasional presence of great animals underground, led to this
interpretation, and similarly in Siberia, led to the interpre-
tation of earthquakes as due to motions of underground mam-
moths— creatures whose bones, and even undecayed bodies, are
found imbedded in ice below the surface ; it is clear that the
same mode of thought is exhibited. This sudden and seemingly,
spontaneous motion of the Earth is ascribed to an agent of the
class which habitually exhibits sudden spontaneous motions—
an animal. And the question — What animal P being raised, the
conclusion is that it must be an animal which exists down
below. Explanations elsewhere given betray like trains of ideas.
Bancroft says "the Southern Californians believed that when
the Creator made the world he fixed it on the back of Beven
giants, whose movements . . . cansed earthquakes" (Native
Races of the Pacific States, vol. iii, p. 122). As given by
John Bell, a conception of the Lamas was that the Earth rests
on a golden frog; "and whenever this prodigious frog had
occasion to scratch its head, or stretch out its foot, that part
of the earth immediately above was shaken " (A Journey from
St. Petersburgh to Pekin in the year 1719. Pinkerton's Voyages,
vol. vii, p. 369). So, too, by the Norse belief that earthquakes
are caused " by the struggles of chained Loki " (Grimm,
Teutonic Myth., vol. ii, p. 816) ; as well as by the Fijian belief
that when Dengeh "turns aboat or trembles in his cave the

APPENDIX A. 771

earth shakes and quakes exceedingly " (Loloma, or Two Years
in Cannibal-land, by H. Britton, p. 195-6) ; we are shown that the
hypothesis is of the naturalistic class rather than of the super-
naturalistic class. The effect is ascribed to a living agent con-
ceived as existing where the effect is produced, and operating
after the same mechanical manner with known living agents.
The only case I have met with in which agency of this kind is
not assigned, serves still better to show that the phenomenon
is classed with known natural phenomena. Concerning the
Esquimaux interpretation of earthquakes, Crantz says — " they
imagine that the globe of the earth rests upon pillars, which are
now mouldering away by age, so that they frequently crack "
{History of Greenland, i, 211).

From earthquakes we may pass to volcanic eruptions without
finding any wider divergence from this form of explanation
than is to be expected from the nature of the appearances.
Two low races, remote in habitat and type, yield illustrations.
] n North America u the Koniagas, for example, held that the
craters of Alaska were inhabited by beings mightier than men,
and that these sent forth fire and smoke when they heated
their sweat-houses, or cooked their food" (Bnncroft, Native
Races, etc., vol. iii, p. 122). And among the aborigines of Western
Australia, it is a tradition that " ' once on a time, the In-gnas,
who live underground, being very sulky, to spite the poor
black fellows, who seem to have the good-will of no one, made
great fires and threw up red-hot stones, fire, etc., and thus
burned the whole of that country* " (The Aborigines of Aus-
tralia. A. Oldfield, in Tr. Eth. Socy., N.S., vol. iii, p. 232).
The only noteworthy unlikeness here, is that beings of the
human type are assumed : probably for the reason that they are
the only known kinds of beiugs who can produce fire or make
use of it.

For collecting together these interpretations of thunder-
storms, eclipses, earthquakes, and eruptions, my motive has been
to show that in primitive thought, events which are of irregular
occurrence, and by this, as well as by their apparent spontaneity,
suggest living agents, are ascribed to living agents deviating as
little from ordinary ones as may be ; and are devoid of anything
like religious idea or sentiment. The beliefs held concerning
these events yield no signs of that Nature-worship supposed
to be innate in the uncivilized ; though the portentousness of
the events might be expected to arouse it, did it exist. Nor
do they betray the conception of one or many invisible
powers of the kind called supernatural among advanced peoples.
Though we carelessly group together all absurd ideas of savages
under the general name of superstitions, yet, as we here see,
there is a significant distinction between these which show no

3 D 2

772 APPENDIX A,

recognition of alleged spiritual beings and those in wh'ch such
recognition is shown. Bat now, how does there result transi-
tion from the one to the other ? Some interpretations of inter-
mediate kinds will prepare the way for an answer.

The ancient Peruvians fancied Thunder "to bee a man in
heaven, with a sling and a mace, and that it is in his power to
oause raine, haile, thunder " (Jos. de Acosta, vol. ii, p. 304). In
Samoa "the chiefs were supposed to go to the heavens and send
down lightning, thunder, and rain " (Turner, Samoa a Hundred
Years Ago, p. 277). And describing the beliefs of the Veddahs
(whose gods are the ghosts of relatives), Bailey writes : — " Of
tlnmder they say 'a spirit or a god has cried out'" (Trans.
Eth. Socy. Lon., N.S., ii, p. 302, and note §). In these cases,
4b en, the living agent conceived is a man who either retains in
the heavens his original character, or is in some way trans-
figured. Concerning eclipses we read that " the Tlascaltecs,
regarding the sun and the moon as husband and wife, believed
eclipses to be domestic quarrels " (Bancroft, Native Races, etc.,
vol. iii, p. 111). Marsden says of the Sumatrans, that
" during an eclipse they made a loud noise with sounding in-
struments, to prevent one luminary from devouring the other'9
( History of Sumatra, p. 194). And then among the Polynesians,
"some imagined that on an eclipse, the sun and moon were
swallowed by the god which they . had by neglect offended.
Liberal presents were offered, which were supposed to induce
the god to abate his anger, and eject the luminaries of day and
night from his stomach" (Ellis, Polynesian Researches, 1859,
vol. i, pp. 331-2).

Here then, while the appearances are explained as caused
by unknown living beings acting in ways allied to those of
known living beings, we have, in the introduction here of a
transfigured man, and there of a god, as instrumental, a recourse
to explanations no longer of the purely natural kind.

Whence comes this new order of supposed beings? How
does there arise in men's minds the idea of a Bpecies of animate
power unlike the animate powers they see around them in
beasts and men ? What originates the conception of this
supernatural agency which, once adopted, develops so largely
as nearly to exclude all other agency? There is a simple
answer. By transition from the dream to the ghost, and from
the ghost to the god, there is reached a conceived kind of
oause capable of indefinite expansion and admitting of all
adjustments ; and hence serving for explanations of every kind.

Confusion of Breams with Realities during Childhood. — Occa-
sionally we hear it remarked of dreams that their seeming
actuality affected the feelings for some time after awaking : an

A1TENDIX A. 773

impression like that, say, of escape from real danger, continue
ing after recognition of the fact that the danger was ideal. The
tendency of an extremely vivid dream thus to generate an
emotion such as accompanies reality, is one factor in producing
belief in its reality. I have lately met with striking proofs of
this. In a company of less than a dozen persons, three testified
to having in childhood had such vivid dreams of flying down
stairs, and being impressed bo strongly with the experiences as
real, that they actually tried to fly down stairs ; and one of them
suffered from an injured ankle consequent on the attempt.

On writing subsequently to the lady in whose family these
statements were made, to verify my recollections of them, she
gave me a story which one of her daughters had subsequently
narrated, showing how literally this daughter had accepted her
visions in childhood. Brought up amid much talk about
animals, she, on one occasion, dreamed that a gorilla, who lived
near at hand, gave her something ; and, she added — " When I
walked up the lane, I used to wonder where the gorilla lived."

Now if dream-experiences and waking experiences are thus
confounded by the children of the civilized, notwithstanding the
discriminations which they have heard made by adults, and not-
withstanding the conception that has been given to them of
mind as an indwelling entity distinct from body ; it is obvious
(hat primitive men, lacking this theory of mind, lacking words
in which to express many perceivable distinctions, and lacking,
too, instruction from the more cultivated, will inevitably con-
fuse dream- thoughts and the thoughts of the waking state.
Hence on reading of savages, as for instance the Kamschadales,
that the ideas of sleeping and waking life are apt to be con-
founded by them, we shall see that, so far from being anomalous,
a confounding of them to a greater or less extent is at first
inevitable.

Especially shall we see no difficulty in recognizing the inter-
pretations of primitive conceptions thus yielded, when we
remember that even still, in some of the educated among our-
selves, there survives a belief in the reality of beings seen in
dreams ; and that at the present moment there exists a group
of highly-cultivated men having for one of their objects to
collect the narratives of supernatural visitations during sleep.

Dreams a* literally accepted by Savage*.-* Already in §§ 70,
71, I have variously illustrated the truth that adults among
savages, like many children among ourselves, regard as real the
adventures gone through, and persons seen, in dreams. The
Zulus furnished sundry instances, which will be recalled by this
additional one :—

" Why did not our ancestral tpirifo tell me in a dream that thei* wen

774 APPENDIX A.

something which they wanted, instead of revealing themselves by coming to
kill the child in this way?" (Bp. Callaway, The Rtligum* System of the
Amatuluy pp. 371-2.)

And I may add another somewhat different in kind furnished
by the mythology of the Mangaians. They say that " Vatea, the
father of gods and men ... in his dreams several times saw
a beautiful woman. On one happy occasion he succeeded in
clutching- her in his sleep, and thns detained the fair sprite as his
wife" (W. W. Gill, Myths and Songs, &c., pp. 3, 7). Bat among
the most specific and instructive facts exhibiting these primitive
conceptions, are those recently given by Mr. Everard F. Im
Thurn, concerning the Indians of British Guiana. I qaote
from the Journal of the Anthropological Institute, vol. xi : —

u One morning -when it was important to get away from a camp on the
Etsequibo River, at which I had been detained for some days by the illness
of some of my Indian companions, I found that one of the invalids, a young
Macusi Indian, though better in health, was so enraged against me that he
refused to stir ; for he declared that, with great want of consideration for
his weak health, I had taken him out during the night, and had made him
drag the canoe up a series of difficult cataracts. Nothing would persuade
him of the fact that this was but a dream." (p. 364.)

"At that time we were all suffering from a great scarcity of food

Morning after morning the Indians declared that some absent man, whom
they named, had visited their hammocks during the night, and had beaten or
otherwise maltreated them ; and they always insisted upon much rubbing of
the supposed bruised parts of their bodies. (p. 364.)

" In the middle of one night I was awakened by an Arawak, named 8am,
the captain or headman of my Indians, only to be told the bewildering words,
' George speak me very bad, boss ; you out his bits.' It was some time before
I could sufficiently collect my senses to remember that ' bite/ or fourpenny
pieces, are the units in which, among Creoles and semi-civilised Indians,
calculations of money, and consequently of wages, are made ; that ' to cut
hits ' means to reduce the number of bits, or the wages given ; and to under-
stand that Sam, as captain, having dreamed that George, his subordinate),
had spoken impudent ly to him, the former with a fine sense of the dignity of
his position, now insisted that the culprit should be punished in real life."
(pp. 364-5.)

Experiences of this kind led Mr. Im Thurn to the conclusion
expressed in another paragraph, that " the dreams which come
in sleep to the Indian are to him as real as any of the events of
his waking life." (p. 364.)

Waking Visions. — In illustration of these, and the acceptance

of them as real by the Guiana Indians, Mr. Im Thurn writes,

in the above-named paper in the Journal of the Anthropological

Institute, as follows : —

" One morning in 1878, when I was living in a Macusi vHlajre, a party of
Indians of the same tribe with whom I had had some dealings, came from
their neighbouring village with the extraordinary request that I would lend
them guns and would go with them to attack the Arecuna Indians of a
Village some twenty miles distant. Though there is an unusually strong

APPENDIX A. 775

feeling of hostility between theMacusi and the Arceunn, Indians, this request,
remembering how peaceful the Indians now generally are, seemed to me very
strange. It was explained that a certain man, named Tori, one of the sup-
pliants, had a day or two previously been sitting alone on the savannah out-
side his house, when looking up from the arrow-head which he was fashioning,
he found some Arecunas, whom he knew by sight, belonging to the village
against which war was now to be waged, standing over him with uplifted
war-clubs as if to strike him down. Tori continued to explain that his
shouts bringing his own people out of their houses, the Arecunas vanished
without doing any harm. The story was utterly incredible, but after
much cross-examination, it was evident that Tori himself believed it, and I
can only suppose that it was a ease in wfcioh a natural vision was believed as
a reality." (p. 366.)

Respecting phenomena of this kind Mr. Im Thnrn says of the
Indian that " visions are to him, when awake, what dreams are
to him when asleep ; and the creatures of his visions seem in no
way different from those of his dreams." (p. 365.) And he then
contrasts visions of two kinds : —

" A distinction may here be drawn . . . between natural visions — those
which appear to a man in consequence of the abnormal condition in which
his body accidentally happens to be at the moment— and artificial visions,
which appear to a man in consequence of the abnormal condition into* which
he has brought himself by sueh means as fasting and the use of stimulant*
or narcotics for the express purpose of experiencing visions." (p. 865.)

These last, which he distinguishes as artificial visions, he
remarks are " mnoh more frequent in Indian life, especially in
one particular connection — the peatman, or medicine man, the
priest, doctor, sorcerer, and prophet of Indian society." (p. 306.)

Wuhing Visions among the Civilized. — How naturally savages,
accepting as real their visions during sleepr may he misled by
waking visions, will be made clear by reading accounts of
illusions which occur during abnormal nervous excitements
among ourselves. In support of the interpretations given in
the first part of this work, I received, in 1877, an account of
his experiences from Mr. F. G. Fleay, the Shakspearean scholar.
He kindly allows me to publish them -T which I do after making
some abridgments :—

" About 1844, when 13 yean old, after a lengthened experience of som-
nambulism and sleep talking, induced by nervoue excitement caused by inju-
dicious legends told me by a nurse in order to secure silence' through fright
aa to her connexion with a policeman, I read a vast amount of ghost-litera-
ture, old witch- trials, German tales of horror, etc. This produced an
exalted nervous excitement, whence disease of optic nerves. The first
illusion was seeing my bedroom filled with stars at night, and the floor
covered with oyster-shells in the morning. I always went to bed without
candle in order to get rid of a fear of the dark. This was followed by a
number of more complex illusions, the most remarkable of which was a
shower of human heads passing in through the window in a cascade.

" About 1845, 1 woke up at midnight, and saw my brother (then living)
lying on the bed. I attempted to take hold of him. but my arm passed
through him. His subsequent death convinced me that this was no illusion.

776 APPENDIX A.

but that he had actually visited me in his sleep. I mean that his ' soul * had
been with me. . . . My belief, previously pure materialistic (2nd stage,
1st being pagan) beeame a sort of spiritualistic Christianity.

" In 1851-2, when an undergraduate, I woke up one morning, and on
opening my eyes (not haying been dreaming of the thing), I saw Raphael's
Madonna ' in the chair ' on the ceiling in full colours. I had often seen
engravings of this picture, but no coloured copy as I supposed. I thereupon
noted the colours carefully, and was surprised on enquiry to find them accu-
rate. By chance, some weeks after, I was told of Baxter's oleograph, and
found that I had passed one in a shop-window in Trinity Street, Cambridge,
the night before my rision.

" In 1854, I had been playing whist late. Mr. W had lost a few

shillings, perhaps fire. I woke up in the night, and saw him standing in
his nightshirt demanding compensation audibly, and stating that he
had committed suicide. He put his cold hand on my chest, then I tried to
more it, and found it my own, which had become numb and cold from being
exposed. There is a case of 'ghosts demanding revenge.' Had he really
been a great loser and I a gainer, he might hare killed himself, and a strong
case for actual appearance have been made out.

" In 1853-4, 1 had my most singular experiences. Over-reading for triposes
(I got two firsts and two seconds) caused independent action of the two
halyes of the brain, and I held conversation with myself, one-half of me
assuming the personality of John Gedge of my year.

" About 1856, 1 was staying in Bloomabury Street. . . . The house had
been used as a lunatic asylum. I slept in the room formerly used for lunatics.
I saw at 1 ajn. a man cutting his throat at the bed-foot. On rising up he
vanished, lying down he reappeared. I drank water, he disappeared alto-
gether. I found that moonlight on white drapery of the bed exactly repre-
sented a shirt-sleeve — the rest of the figure was produced by association.

" About 1859, 1 dreamed at Leeds that I was in my father's kitchen at
Clapharu, calling out to my brother, ' G-us, come down.' A few days after, I
had a letter from him stating that he had a singular dream that I was
calling out to him on the same night, or the night after ; he had made no
note, and could not tell which when I saw him. But the dates of the letters
left no doubt it was same night. Case of singular coincidence which
would suggest theory of actual separation of soul from body, cases of non-
ooineidenee being explained by forgetfulness, or Swedenborgi&n self-erolve-
ment of scenery.

" About 1865, 1 dreamed that I had received a letter containing some impor-
tant statement about me, I did not know what (compare De Quincey, Opium),
on which all my future depended. The delusion lasted all the next day,
which 1 spent in looking for the imaginary letter. Case of over-smoking.
Use of stimulants (wrongly called narcotics) a most important factor in later
development of superstition*.

" Later, before 1864.— Sleeping at Mr. Henry WalhV (Death of Chatterton
Wallis) : in semi-waking state could produce at will panorama of towns,
historical events, Ac., in full colour. But the figures had no motion, only
the canvas so to say moved as in a diorama. Smoking again with artists
till 2 a.m., and talking of pictures.

" In 1871, at Hipoerholme. — My predecessor committed suicide in the room
I slept in, by hanging. I saw him in cap and gown lying on my bed at mid-
day. Found it was my own gown ; cap, head, Ac, supplied by association.
This was my last experience.'1

The part which mere coincidence plays in causing apparent
supernatural agency is far greater than is supposed. The
instance given above by Mr. Fleay, which he thus accounts for,

APPENDIX A. 777

is less remarkable than two perfectly natural coincidences, and
quite meaningless ones, which have occurred within my own
personal experience.

Wandering of the Soul during Life. — Such illusions as those

above described, which, - among cultured peoples, are now

regarded as subjective, are naturally, by the primitive man,

regarded as objective : his interpretation of them being that

they are things seen and done by his soul when it leaves his

body while he is awake. Says Mr. Im Thurn respecting such

illusions among the Guiana Indians — " Not only in death and iu

dreams, bat in yet a third way the Indian sees the spirit separate

from the body. (p. 365.) The following extracts show among

other peoples, partially- different forms of this primitive belief : —

" At Uea, one of the Loyalty Islands, it was the custom formerly when a
person was very ill to send for a man whose employment it was .' to restore
•emit to forsaken bodies.* The soul-dootor would at once collect his friends
and assistants, to the number of twenty men and as many women, and start
off to the place where the family of the sick man was aocustomed to bury
their dead. Upon arriving there, the soul-doctor and his male companions
commenced playing the nasal flutes with which they had come provided, in
order to entice back the spirit to its old tenement. The women assisted
by a low whistling, supposed to be irresistibly attractive to exile spirits.
After a time the entire procession proceeded towards the dwelling of the siok
person, flutes playing and the women whistling all the time, leading back the
truant spirit ! To prevent its possible escape, with their palms open, they
seemingly drove it along with gentle violence and coaxing. . . . On entering
the dwelling of the patient, the vagrant spirit was ordered in loud tones at
once to enter the body of the siek man." (Gill, Rev. W. W., Myths and Song*
from the South Pacific, pp. 171-2.)

Among the Hervey Islanders—

" The philosophy of sneezing is, that the spirit having gone travelling
about— perchance on a visit to the homes or burying-places of its ancestors
— it« return to the body is naturally attended with some difficulty and excite*
ment, occasioning a tingling and enlivening sensation all over the body.
Bence the various customary remarks addressed to the returned spirit in
different islands. At Barotonga, when a person sneezes, the bystanders
exclaim, as though addressing a spirit . . . 'Ha! you have come back/"
(Gill, Myths and Songs from the South Pacific, p. 177.)

The belief held by the Karens is that —

" The ' Wi ' has the power of reviving the dead or dying, but he must first
catch the spirit of some person alive and divert it to the dead one." (Dalton,
Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, -p. 117.)

By the Samoans —

u The soul of man is called his anganga, or that which goes or comes. It
is said to be the daughter of Taufanuu, or vapour of lands, which forms
clouds, and as the dark cloudy covering of night comes on, man feels sleepy,
because the soul wishes to go and visit its mother." (Turner, Samoa a
Mmtdred Years Ago, p. 8.)

Concerning the Andamanese we read : —

* When appealed to in serious illness the 6ko-paiad [lit. a dreamer] first

778 APPENDIX JL

examines the patient and presses the limbs, muttering and nuking sundry
strange noises as if invoking and kissing some invisible person; he then
informs the sufferer and his friends that he is about to search for the spirit
which, at such times, is believed to be wandering in or towards . . . Hades."
(E. H. Man, Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xi, 289).

Death and He- Animation. — Placed in the foregoing order, the
extracts show the natural transition from the belief that the
soul wanders away in dreams and during waking hours, to the
belief that at death it takes its departure for a longer period,
but will eventually come back. In his account of the Guiana
Indians, Mr. Im Thurn recognizes this connexion of ideas. He
sajs —

"When a man dies something goes, something is left. The survivors
necessarily distinguish in thought between these two parts, and (hey call
them respectively by some such names as spirit and body. A curious illus-
tration of this is afforded by a saying of the Macusi Indians of Guiana, as
they point out that at death the small human figure disappears from the
pupil of a man's eye, that the spirit, the emmawarri, as they call it, has gone
from out of him. . . . But it is not only in death that the Indian sees the
two separate. It is a platitude among civilised people to remark on the
similarity between ' death and his brother sleep/ But great as the similarity
is to us it seems far greater to the Indian. To us the similarity lies merely
in the fact that in both there is rest from the work of this life : but to the
Indian it lies in the fact that in both the spirit departs from the body only
to continue its labours under hardly altered circumstances." (pp. 363-4.)

How little the state after death is supposed to differ from the
state during life, is shown by the extent to which bodily
comforts are cared for. Many instances were given in Part I,
and here are some further instructive ones. In his elaborate
work on the Australians, Mr. Brough Smyth quotes Senior Con-
stable James concerning the Di eyerie tribe, as follows : —

" Every night for one moon (four weeks) two old men went to the grave
about dusk, and carefully swept all round it ; each morning, for the same
period, they visited it, to see if there were any tracks of the dead man on the
swept space. They told me that if they were to find tracks they would have
to remove the body and bury it elsewhere, as the foot-marks would denote
that the dead man was ' walking ' and discontented with his present grave."
{Aborigine* of Victoria, i, 119.)

Mr. Smyth precedes this by another case. He gives it on the
authority of Mr. W. H. Wright to the effect that a native having
been buried with the usual implements and comforts, his friends
came back to the spot after " a great storm of wind and rain •*
and dug np " that poor fellow ' Greorgey/ " because he " was too
much cold and wet and miserable where he was buried." They
exhumed the body, " wrapped an additional blanket and com-
forter round it," and " placed it in a hollow tree." (Ibid., i, 108.)

Similar ideas are implied by certain customs in Humphrey's
Island, as described by Turner.

" At the grave the priest prayed, called out the name of the person who

APPENDIX A. 770

oad died, handed oyer to the corpse some scented oil, and mid it had been
made specially for him. In filling up the grave they pat in first of all a
quantity of small ooral stones and told the dead man to cover himself well."
(Turner, Samoa a Hundred Year* Ago, p. 277.)

Among the Coreans, too, there is an observance betraying a

like belief that the dead retain their senses and desires.

" During this first mourning, a serving person takes a garment, formerly
"worn hy the deceased, and goes with it to the highest point on the top of the
house, where — holding the garment, the neck in his left hand, the hem in
his right , and looking northwards, whither the spirits ( Tin) flee — he thrice
calls loudly the name of the deceased. . . . This is the last effort to bring
back the spirit to the body." (Rev. John Boss, History of Corea, p. 321.)

And similar in their implications are sundry of the other

funeral ceremonies, which Ross describes thns : —

" At the ordinary hours of the day at which he used to take his food,
dishes are prepared and offered, and then wailing and weeping, follow."
(p. 318.) Food and precious stones are put into the deceased's mouth,
(pp. 324-5.) The mourners bow twice and mourn ; and then the things are
removed. "During the removal, the Shangjoo, [principal mourner] leaning
on his staff, weeps bitterly because his father cannot eat." (p. 832.)

With these may fitly be named the observances by which the
ancient Scythians betrayed a kindred conception.

" When any one dies, his nearest of kin lay him upon a wagon and take him
round to all his friends in succession : each receives them in turn and enter-
tains them with a banquet, whereat the dead man is served with a portion
of all that is set before the others ; this is done for forty days, at the end of
which time the burial takes place." (Herodotus, Bk. iv, 73.)

Reviving Corpses. — Of course as a sequence of the belief that
death is a suspended animation, there naturally goes the belief
that buried persons are from time to time resuscitated. The
Eyrbyggja-Saga shows that among our Scandinavian kinsmen
there prevailed the primitive notion that the material body, re-
animated by its wandering double, can leave its bn rial -place and
work mischief. Here is a note appended to the abstract of the
Saga compiled by Sir W. Scott. (Mallet, Northern Antiquities,
1847, pp. 530-1.)

M After the death of ArnkiU, Begifot became again troublesome, and
walked forth from his tomb to the great terror and damage of the neighbour*
hood, slaying both herds snd domestics, and driving the inhabitants from the
canton. It was, therefore, resolved to consume his carcase with fire ; for
. . . he, or some evil demon in his stead, made use of his mortal reliques as
a vehicle during commission of these enormities. The body " was burnt.

Noting the implied belief, like that which we have found pre*
valent among the savage and semi-civilized, that destruction of
the body prevents this kind of resurrection, we may also note
the implied belief, illustrated in other cases, that one who gets
part of a dead body thereby gets power over the deceased
person; for if destruction of the wholo paralyzes the ghost
entirely, injury of a part must be detrimental to the ghost.

780 APPKNDIX 1L

The Vampire-stories of the Russians illustrate the same belief
in excursions made by the corpse. Here is one : —

" A peasant was driving past a grave-yard, after it had grown dark. After
him came running a stranger, dressed in a red shirt and a new jacket, who
cried, — ' Stop ! take me as your companion*' ' Pray take a seat.' They enter
a village, drive up to this and that house. . . . They drive on to the Tory
last house, . . . They go into the house ; there on the bench lie two sleepers
— an old man and a lad. The stranger takes a pail, places it near the youth,
and strikes hira on the back ; immediately the back opens, and forth flows
rosy blood. The stranger fills the pail full, and drinks it dry. Then he fills
another pail with blood from the old man, slakes his brutal thirst, and says
to the peasant, — ' It begins to grow light ! let us go back to my dwelling.'
In a twinkling they found themselves at the grave-yard. The vampire would
have clasped the peasant in its arms, but luckily for him the cocks began to
crow, and the corpse disappeared. The next morning, when folks came and
looked, the old man and the lad were both dead." (lUUum, Sengs of the
Russian People, pp. 411-2.)

Sorcery. — The relation of the foregoing beliefs to those prac-
tices by which magicians are supposed to raise the dead and
control demons, was suggested in § 133. Further proofs that
the more developed forms of sorcery thus originate, have since
come to me. The following passage from Sir George Grey's
Polynesian Mythology ^ pp. 1 14-5, implies the anxiety of a son to
rescue relics of his father from enchanters.

" Rata, without stopping, crept directly towards the Are, and hid himself
behind some thick bushes of the Harakeke ; he then saw that there were some)
priests upon the other side of the same bushes, serving at the sacred place,
and, to assist themselves in their magical arts, they were making use of the
bones of Wahieroa, knocking them together to beat time while they were
repeating a powerful incantation, ... he rushed suddenly upon the priests.
. . . The bones of his father, Wahieroa, were then eagerly snatched up by
him } he hastened with them back to the canoe."

From pp. 34-5 of the same work, I quote another passage,
similarly implying the power which possession of a relic
gives : —

" When the stomach of Muri-ranga-whtnua had quietly sunk down to its
usunl size, her voice was again heard saying, ' Art tbou Maui ? * and he
answered, * Even so.' Then she asked him, * Wherefore hast thou served
thy old ancestress in this deceitful way P ' and Maui answered, ' I was
anxious that thy jawbone, by which the great enchantments can be wrought,
should be given to me.' She answered, ' Take it, it has been reserved for
thee.' And Maui took it, and having done so returned to the place where he
and his brethren dwelt."

When with these, and other such illustrations given in § 133,
we join the fact that even still in Italy the people tell of the
child that is "kidnapped and buried up to the chin, while the
witches torment him to death to make hell-broth of his liver"
{Fortnightly Esview, Feb., 1874, p. 220), we cannot doubt the
origin of necromancy. Starting with the primitive belief that
the spirit of the living person, inhering in all parts of his body,

APPENDIX A. 781

is affected by acting on a detached part of it, there is reachod
the belief that the spirit of the dead person is similarly affected
by maltreating a relic ; and with this goes the belief that all
parts of the body will eventually be needed by the deceased,
and that therefore his spirit can be commanded by one who has
any part.

Evidence even more strongly confirming this view is contained
in Talcs and Traditions of the Eskimo, by Dr. Henry Rink.
The following extracts I place in an order which shows their
bearings : —

" 8ome tales teem to hint' at a belief that the manner in which the body of
the deceased is treated by the survivors influences the condition of his soul."
(p. 43.) " But a slain man is said to have power to avenge himself upon the
murderer by rushing into him, which can only be prevented by eating a piece
of his liver." (p. 46.) And then, among the materials necessary for sorcery,
are named, first, " parts of human bodies, or objects that had been in some
way connected with dead bodies." (p. 49.)

Here we have the three concurrent ideas— effect on the ghost
by action on the body belonging to it; protection against the
ghost by incorporating part of the body, and so establishing
community ; and coercion of the ghost by treating part of the
body injuriously.

That in the higher forms of sorcery the medicine-man, now
more properly to be regarded as a priest, is supposed to jjet
knowledge and work miraculous effects by the help of a superior
spirit, might be illustrated by many cases besides those given
in the text. Here is one concerning the people of Mangaia.

"Priests were significantly named ' god-boxes,* — generally abbreviated to
'gods,* i.e. y living embodiments of these divinities. Whenever consulted, a
present of the best food, accompanied with a bowl of intoxicating **piper
mythisticum,' was indispensable. The priest, throwing himself into a frensy,
delivered a response in language intelligible only to the initiated. A favourite
subject of inquiry was ' the sin why so and so was ill ; ' no one being sup-
posed to die a natural death unless decrepit with extreme old age. If a
priest cherished a spite against somebody, he had only to declare it to be the
will of the divinity that the victim should be put to death or be laid on the
altar for some offence against the gods." (Gill, Myths and Songs from the
South Pacific, p. 35.)

Saered Places, Temples, 8fc. — Further illustrations of the
genesis of these are yielded by the following extracts.

In the New Hebrides " places where remarkable men have been buxitd,
whether recently or in times beyond present memory, are sacred, not to be
approached but by their owners, who mako prayers there to the Tamate "
Lghoste]. (Journal of the Anthropological Institute, x, 292.)

Among the Blantyre negroes the deceased's house becomes
his temple.

" The man may be buried in his own dwelling. In this case the house is
not taken down [as it otherwise would be], but is generally covered with

>

782 APPENDIX A.

cloth, and the verandah becomes the place for presenting offerings. Hi* old
house thus becomes a kind of temple. There may be cases also where the
deceased is buried in the Tillage, although not in his own house. In such
cases a new house will be raised above the remains."1 (Maodonald, Africana,
i, p. 109.)

" Over some of the graves a small roof is built, three or six feet high, the
gables of which are filled in with sinnet, wrought into different sized squares,
arranged diagonally." The Queen's " body was further protected with a
large roof, made of a kind of mahogany, and ornamented with pure white
cowries.1* (Williams, Fiji and the Fijian*, i, 192.)

Concerning the inhabitants of the Corea, we read : —

The " graves are ornamented at great cost. A small temple is built, where
the deceased is mourned; the front of the grave is paved with cut flag-
stones, which are often guarded by upright stones carved into human and
other figures." (Boss, History of Corea, p. 320.)

In Humphrey's Island —

" The dead were usually buried, but chiefs and others much lamented were
laid on a small raised platform over which a house was erected." (Turner,
Samoa a Hundred Year* Ago, 277.)

Immolations and Sacrifices at Graves, — The instances given in
§ 104, showing that the motive for sacrificing wives at fnnerals
among existing barbarous peoples, is that they may accompany
their dead hnsbands to the other world, prove how erroneous
have been the interpretations given by Europeans of suttee
among the Hindus : one of the statements being that it was
adopted as a remedy for the practice of poisoning their
husbands, which had become common among Hindu women (?).
If there needs a further illustration of the origin of wife-sacrifice,
here is one.

"The Thracians who live above the Crcstons3ans observe the following
customs. Each man among them has several wives, and no sooner docs
a man die than a sharp contest ensues among the wives upon the question,
which of them all the husband loved most tenderly ; the friends of each
eagerly plead on her behalf, and she to whom the honour is adjudged, after
receiving the praises both of men and women, is slain over the grave by the
hand of her next of kin, and then buried with her husband. The others are
sorely grieved, for nothing is considered such a disgrace." (Herodotus,
Bk. v, 5;.

That human victims are immolated at the tombs of great
men, as well as at the altars of gods, and, indeed, sometimes on
a far more extensive scale, is proved in the case of Hamilkar.

"The Carthaginians erected funereal monuments to him, graced with
periodical sacrifices, both in Carthage and in their principal colonies ; on the
field of battle itself [Himera] also, a monument was raised to him by the
Greeks. On that monument, seventy yean afterwards, his victorious grand-
son, fresh from the plunder of this Bame city of Himera, offered the bloody
sacrifice of 8,000 Grecian prisoners." (Grote, History of Greece, v, 297-8.)

How the primitive practice of sacrificing animals at graves
sometimes revives after having died out, and how it then forma

APPENDIX A. 783

part of a worship of the dead person, is exemplified among

Christians by the case of St. Agnes.

" About eight days after her execution [a.d. 806], her parents going to
lament and pray at her tomb, where they continued watching all night, it is
reported that there appeared unto them a vision of angels . . . among
whom they saw their own daughter . . . and a lamb standing by her as
white as snow . . . Ever after which time the Roman ladies went every year
(as they still do) to offer and present to her on this day [St. Agnes' Day] the
two best and purest white lambs they could procure. These they offered
at St. Agnes' b altar (as they call it)." (Wheatly's Common Prayer, p. 66.)

Nor is this case occurring among Catholics without parallel

among Protestants. Here are cases from Wales and from

Scotland : —

" There are many . . . instances of sacrifice performed in comparatively
modern times either to a local god distinguished as a saint or to some real
person whose memory has become confused with a pagan legend. There
are records, for example, of bulls being killed at Kirkcudbright ' as an alms
and oblation to St. Cuthbert,' of bullocks offered to St. Beuno, ' the paint
of the Parish of Clynnog ' in Wales." (Charles Elton, Origin* of English
History, pp. 296-6.)

" Less than two hundred years ago it was customary in the group of
parishes which surrounded Applecross to sacrifice a bull on a particular day
of the year — the 25th of August — that is, the day of St. Mourie, who is the
well-known patron-saint of Applecross, ani who was. and is to this day,
sometimes spoken of in the district as the God Mourie." (Arthur Mitchell,
The Fast in the Present, p. 147.)

Demons and Demon-worship. — At the outset, the ghost-theory
gives origin to beliefs in ghosts that are friendly and ghosts that
are malicious ; of which the last, usually not ancestral, are feared
more than the first, and often in a greater degree propitiated.
Good illustrations occur in an essay by Mr. M. J. Walhoase, on
the belief in Bhutas among the people in Western India. Here
are some extracts.

u But the last three classes, of whom more particularly it is now intended
to speak, are of exclusively liuman origin, being malignant, discontented
beings, wandering in an intermediate state between Heaven and Hell, intent
upon mischief and annoyance to mortals ; chiefly by means of possession and
wicked inspiration, every aspect of which ancient ideas, as well as of the old
doctrine of transmigration, they exemplify and illustrate. They are known
by the names of Bhuta, TrSta, and Pisacha ; the first name being ordinarily
applied to all three, and even vulgarly to the seven superior classes. These
beings, always evil, originate from the souls of those who have died untimely
or violent deaths, or been deformed, idiotic, or insane ; afflicted with fits
or unusual ailments ; or drunken, dissolute, or wicked during life. . . . The
death of any well-known bad character is a source of terror to all his neigh-
bourhood, as he is sure to become a Bhuta or demon, as powerful and malig-
nant as he was in life. Some of the Bhutas now most dreaded were cele-
brated personages of old days. . . • In their haunts and modes of appearance
Bhutas repeat the beliefs of many countries. They wander borne upon the
air, especially in uninhabited, dry, and desert places ; and tall trees are
a favourite abode. ... As the ancient Jews would speak to none whom they
met after midnight, for fear they might be addressing a devil, so Hindu

784 APPKNDIX A.

villagers will speak to no one they may meet at that time, lest fee should be a
Bl.ut, nor, indeed, willingly then etir oat of their houses. The eddies of
wind that career oyer plains in the hot weather, whirling up leaves and
columns of dust, and flickering lights seen gliding over marshes, are regarded
as Bhufcs passing by. . . . The before-mentioned classes are believed more par*
ticularly to afflict human beings by entering into and possessing them. Gaping
or drawing deep breaths are supposed to give them opportunities for this,
tod no Brahman ever gapes without snapping his fingers before his mouth, as
a charm to prevent an evil spirit entering. . . . All this closely tallies with
the beliefs regarding possession current amongst the Jews and early Christians ;
the former in particular believing thut unclean spirits, by reason of their
tenuity, were inhaled and insinuated themselves into tbe human body,
injuring health through the viscera, and forcing the patients to fulfil their
evil desires. . . . The edifices and observances connected with Bhnta
worship are both domestic and public. In villages, and very generally in
towns, there is in every house a wooden cot or cradle, placed on the ground
or suspended bv ropes or chains, and dedicated to the Bhdta of the
spot. . . . Should a member of the family be stricken with any unusual
attack, such as apoplexy, paralysis, cholera, &c., or should disease break out
amongBt the cattle, it is at once ascribed to the anger of the Bhnt, and a propi-
tiatory sacrifice is offered. . . The general buildings dedicated to these demons
are called BhUtastans, and when dedicated to one of the superior, or very
popular Bhutas, sometimes of considerable size. • • . The Bhutas themselves
are usually represented by mere rough stones. . . . Various disputes and liti-
gated matters, especially when evidence and ordinary means of adjustment
fai1, are then brought forward and submitted to the decision of the Bhuta,
and his award, pronounced through the Dher, is generally, though not
always, submitted to. ... In the days of the Rajahs of Coorg, a principality
bordering on Osnara, it was customary for the Amildars, or native heads of
divisions, to issue notices and orders to the Bhutas, in the name of the
Bajah, not to molest any particular individual, to quit any tree they haunted
which was required to be felled, and to desist from any particular act or
annoyance. It is stated that these behests of the Government were never dis-
obeyed, which, indeed, is not unlikely, as the last Coorg Rajah was not a man
who understood being trifled with, either by man or demon. After his depo-
sition, the native officials continued the same style of orders, in the name of
the British Government, for some time before the authorities were aware of
it ! " (Oa the Belief in Bhutas— Devil and Ghost Worship in Western
Indict. By M. J. Walhoute. Journal of the Anthropological Institute,
vol. v, pp. 408-422.)

Of like nature are the beliefs of the Kanjars, as narrated in a
pamphlet which Sir Alfred Lyall has been kind enough to
forward me from India.

" The religion of the Kanjars, as far as we have been able to learn it.
is quite what we should expect to find among a primitive and uncultivated
people. It is a religion without idols, without temples, and without a priest*
hood. They live in the constant dread of evil spirits, the souls of the
departed, who are said to enter into the bodies of the living as a punishment
for past misdeeds or neglect of burial rites, and to produce most of the ills to
which flesh is heir. In this creed they stand on the same intellectual level with
their more civilized kinsfolk, the Hindus, amongst whom it is universally
believed that the air is peopled with hhuts, malignant spirits, who haunt
graveyards, lurk in trees, re-animate corpses, devour living men, or attack
them with madness, epilepsv, cramp, etc. (J. C. Nesfield, An Account of
the Kanjars of Upper India [from Calcutta Beview, Oct. 1883], p. 11.)

APPENDIX A. 785

And in Africa there are propitiations df demons obviously in
like manner conceived as the ghosts of the malicious dead.
Cameron tells ns that while cruising on Lake Tanganyika, they
passed a haunted headland, whereupon —

" The [native] pilots stood together in the bow of the canoe to make an
offering to these evil spirits [the devil and his wife]. One held out a paddle
on the blade of which a few common beads had been placed, and botli
wid together, as nearly as it can be translated, * Ton big man, you big devil,
you great king, you take aH men, yon kill all men, yon now let ub go all
right,' and after a little bowing and gesticulation the beads were dropped
into the water and the dreaded devil propitiated. There is a kind of double
cape at this place, one being the supposed residence of the male devil and the
other that of his wife, and the spot is therefore believed to be doubly
dangerous.1' (Cameron's Acron AJricm, i, 263-4.),

Worshipped Ghosts of Bobbers in India- — Writing under date,
August 1, 1884, from the N.W. Provinces «f India, Sir
Alfred Lyall has obliged me with some instructive instances
of apotheosis in India. He says — "I enclose you herewith
part of a memo, upon the religions practices of the Doms or
Domras, who live on the edge of the forests under the Hima-
layas, and who are the most utterly degraded and irreclaimable
tribe, or relic of a tribe, in all these parts.. You will observe
that they propitiate ghosts and worship notable thieves of
bygone days, and there eannot be the slightest doubt that this
practice is characteristic of all the lowest and most barbarous
Indian societies." The memorandum he encloses* from the
magistrate of Gorakhpur, is as follows :—

" The Maghia Domras have two special divinities of their own ; the ohief
is Ga ndak, whose grave is to be found in Karmani Garni, two days' journey
to the east of Motihari, in Bengal. According to their traditions, Gandak
was hanged for theft ' a long time ago/ and when, dying he promised always
to help Maghias in trouble. He is worshipped fay the whole clan, and is
invoked on all important occasions, but he is pre-eminently the patron god of
thefts. A suceessf id theft is always celebrated by a sacrifice and feast in his
honour. They also worship Samaya, a female divinity ; she is without any
special history, and there is no sharp distinction between her sphere and
Gandak's. Her functions apparently relate chiefly to birth and illness, etc.

" The Maghiae sacrifice young pigs and wine with sugar and spices to
these two deities. Every Maghia is capable of performing the sacrifice, an£
the remains are divided among the company. . . . The Maghias have neither
altars nor idol, nor do they erect any Chabutras for worship. A spot is
cleared and leeped in the middle of a field, and the sacrifice k then offered.

" The Maghias naturally believe in ghosts and spirits. When a man dies,
my informant told me, he turns into a ' Shaitan.' The * deotas,' also he
added, were innumerable. In most villages of this district there is a special
altar for all the local ghosts and deities, which may reside within the village
boundaries, and the Maghias are always ready to share in the sacrifice of the
villagers to them. They also reverence trees and Chabutras, oonscorated by
Hindus, in passing, but pay no further homage."

Worship of Beneficent Spirits — Ancestors and others. — Here

3 S

780 APPENDIX A.

are examples furnished by five unallied races. The first concerns
the Laplanders.

" They worshipped the ghosts of departed persons, but especially of their
kindred, for they thought there was some divinity in them, and that they
were able to do harm : just such as the Romans fancied their manes to be ;
therefore it was that they offered sacrifice to them." (Professor John
Scheffer, Hutory of Lapland, Oxford, 1674, p. 86.)

In an early account of an African people, the Quoians, we
find illustrations of their necrolatry. Saying that the Qnoians
believe the spirits of the dead to be omniscient, and that they
make offerings of rice or wine at their graves, we are told
that they " hold familiar colloquies with them, telling them all
troubles and adversities under which they labour. . . . The
King calls upon the souls of his father and mother almost in
every matter of difficulty." (O. Dapper, Africa by J. Ogilby,
1670, pp. 402-4.)

Concerning the Kanjnrs we read : —

" In the wide range of human history, it is difficult to find an example of
a primitive horde or nation, which has not had its inspired prophet or deified
ancestor. The man-god whom Kaniars worship is Mana, — a name which
does not appear in any of the lists of the Hindu divinities. While he lired
amongst men, he was the model fighter, the great hunter, the wise artificer,
and the unconquered chief. He was not only the teacher and the guide,
but also the founder and ancestor of the tribe. He is therefore to the
Kan jar what Hellen was to the Greeks, Bon ulus to the Romans; Abraham
to the Jews, or Ishmael to the Arabs, . . . Mana is worshipped with more
ceremony in the rainy season, when the tribe is less migratory, than in the
dry months of the year. On such occasions, if sufficient notice is circulated,
several encampments unite temporarily to pay honour to their common
ancestor. No altar is raised. No image is erected. The worshippers collect
near a tree, under which they sacrifioe a pig or goat, or sheep, or fowl, and
make an offering of roasted flesh and spirituous liquor. Formerly (it is
said) they used to sacrifice a child, haying first made it insensible with fer-
mented palm-juice or toddy. They dance round the tree in honour of Mana,
and sing the customary songs in commemoration of his wisdom and deeds of
valour. At the close of the ceremony there is a general feast, in which moat
of the banqueters get drunk. On these occasions, — but before the drunken
stage has been reached, — a man sometimes comes forward, and declared him-
self to be especially filled with the divine presence. He abstains from the
flesh and wine of which others partake, and remains standing before the
tree with his eyes closed as in a trance. If he is seised with a fit of trembling,
the spirit of Mana is thought to have possessed him, and while the inspira-
tion lasts he is consulted as an oracle by any man or woman of the assembly
who desires to be helped out of a difficulty." (J. C. Nesfield, An Account
of the Kanjare of Upper India, pp. 12-13.) .

That this god Mana was originally a man, as he ia said to
have been by the Kanjars, cannot well be doubted when we find
cases in India of historical persons being deified, not by these
inferior races only, but by the Aryans. Premising that the
Portuguese were extremely cruel to the Hindus during the
time that they had a monopoly of the trade in India, Hunter
tells us that-*

APPENDIX A. 787

" Albuquerque alone endeavoured to win the goodwill of the natives, and
to live in friendship with the Hindu princes. In such veneration was his
memory held, that the Hindus of Goa, and even the Muhammadans, were
wont to repair to his tomb, and there to utter their complaints, as if in the
presence of his spirit, and call upon G-od to deliver them from the tyranny
of his successors." (Hunter's Brief History of the Indian People, 150-1.)

Russia, too, supplies us with an instance of kindred nature,
in so far as that the worship is of an historical personage, who
was reverenced during his life.

Alexander Nevski, governor of Novgorood at the time of the Mongol
invasion, and who died in 1268, was " deeply mourned by a grateful people,
who count him ever since amongst the saints, . . . and there is not one of
the Russian emperors who has not knelt before the shrine of Alexander
Nevski. Many great generals have implored him for his support and inter-
cession, whenever they departed for a great battle or an important cam-
paign." (O. W. Wahl, The Land of the Czar, 268.)

Genesis of New Cults among Hindus. — Along with the
account of robber-worship among the Domras given above, Sir
Alfred Lyall transmitted, from the same source, the following : —

" It may perhaps be interesting to know that a weekly pilgrimage has
been instituted within the last year to the tomb of a Fakir in the compound
next my own. The Fakir died two centuries ago, it is said. A'jhiindi'
was struck over his grave — somebody got cured there last year, and a con-
course of people now visit it every Thursday, with drums beating, etc. I
counted once seven graves within a mile or so of my house, at which offer-
ings are presented by the Hindu public, on fixed days. The tombs are
generally those of Mahomedans, but this is immaterial. As my Hon.
Magistrate Babu Durga Perehad explained one day, when pointing out a
tree frequented by a ' Jin* a ' bhut/ is generally a Hindu, rather harmless
and indistinct, but a ' Jin' is always a wicked old Mahomedan, and there is
no appeasing him. The number of ' Devis ' is also innumerable, new ones
ore always springing up, and the most fashionable shrines are generally very
recent. The principal Mahadro on this side the town was discovered by
two herd boys, some years ago, in the Ram gar h Tal. One boy struck it, it
began to bleed, and the boy fell dead. There is a famous Kali at the corner
of my compound, another Devi lives in the judges' compound, and her
image is carried home every evening by the mali who officiates." (Letter
from the magistrate of Gorakhpur to Sir Alfred Lyall.)

These statements harmonize entirely with those given by Sir
Alfred Lyall himself in his Asiatic Studies. To the instances
he names, he adds the remark —

" The saint or hero is admitted into the upper circles of divinity, much as
a succe*sful soldier or millionaire is recognized by fashionable society, takes a

new title, and is welcomed by a judiciously liberal aristocracy.' ' (p. 20.)

Fetichism. — I believe M. Comte expressed the opinion tbat
fetichistic conceptions are formed by the higher animals.
Holding, for reasons already given, that fetichism is not original
but derived, I cannot, of course, coincide in this view. Never-
theless, the behaviour of intelligent animals elucidates the

3 E 2

788 APPENDIX A.

genesis of It I have myself witnessed in dogs two illustrative
actions.

One of these was that of a formidable beast, half mastiff! half
blood-hound, belonging to friends of mine. While playing on
the lawn with a walking-stick, whioh he had seized by the
lower end, it happened that in his gambols he thrust the handle
against the ground : the result being that the end he had in his
mouth was forced against his palate. Giving a yelp, he dropped
the stick, rushed to some distance from it, and betrayed a con-
sternation which was particularly laughable in so large and
ferocious-looking a creature. Only after cautious approaches
and much hesitation was he induced again to pick it up. This
behaviour showed very clearly that the stick, while displaying
none but properties he was familiar with, was not regarded by
him as an active agent; but when it suddenly inflicted a
pain in a way never before experienced from an inanimate objoct,
he was led for, the moment to class it with animate objects, and
to regard it as capable of again doing him injury. Similarly
to the mind of the primitive man, the anomalous behaviour of
an object previously classed as inanimate, suggests animation.
The idea of voluntary action is made nascent; and there
arises a tendency to regard the object with alarm lest it should
act in some other unexpected and perhaps mischievous way.
Obviously the vague notion of animation thus aroused, becomes
a more definite notion as fast as development of the ghost-
theory furnishes a specific agency to which the anomalous
behaviour can be ascribed.

A very intelligent and good-tempered retriever, much pelted
in the house of certain other friends, had a habit which yields
the second hint I have alluded to. On meeting in the morning
one with whom she was on friendly terms, she joined with tho
usual wagging of the tail, an unusual kind of salute, made by
drawing apart the lips so as to produce a sort of smile or grin ;
and she then, if out of doors, proceeded to make a further
demonstration of loyalty. Being by her duties as a retriever
led to associate the fetching of game with the pleasing of the
person to whom she brought it, this had become in her mind an
act of propitiation ; and so, after wagging her tail and grinning,
she would perform this act of propitiation as nearly as was
practicable in the absence of a dead bird. Seeking about, sho
would pick up a dead leaf, a bit of paper, a twig, or other small
object, and would bring it with renewed manifestations of
friendliness. Some kindred state of mind it is which, I believe,
prompts the savage to certain f etichistio observances. Occasion-
ally, when seeking supernatural aid, the savage will pick up per-
haps the first stone he sees, paint it red, and make offerings to it.
Auxions to please some ghostly agent, he feels the need lor dis-

ArrENDix a. 789

playing his anxiety ; and he adopts this as the nearest fulfilment
of a propitiatory act which circumstances permit. Ghosts are
all about, and one may be present in anything — perhaps in this
stone — very likely in this stone. And so the primitive man,
with whom fancy passes easily into belief, adopts this method
of expressing his subordination. Daily occurrences among our-
selves prove that the desire to do something in presence of an
emergency, leads to the most irrelevant actions. " It may do
good, and it can't harm," is the plea for many proceedings which
have scarcely more rationality than worship of a painted stone.

The Fetich-ghost. — The evidence given in §§ 159-163, that the
supernatural agent supposed to be contained in an inanimate
object, was originally a human ghost, is, I think, tolerably con-
clusive. I have, however, met with still more conclusive
evidence, in the work of Dr. Rink on the Eskimo. In the
passage which I here extract, the two are identified by name.

" The whole Twible world i» ruled by supernatural powers, or ' owner*,'
taken in a higher sense, each of whom holds his sway within certain limits,
and is called inua (vis., its or his, tususv winch word signifies ' man,* and also
ownsr or inhabitant,)" (p. 87.)

The supposed possessing agent to which the powers of an
object are ascribed, is thus called its man; the man in it — that
is, the man's ghost in it. The " inue " of certain celestial objects
were personfc known by name ; and the implication is that the
"inue of other objects are thought, of as persons, but not
individually identified.

And now observe that in a work published since that of Dr.
Rink, concerning an unallied people in the remote region of
Polynesia, we find, a kindred conception joined with an interpre-
tation of it. Describing the superstitions of the Hervey
Islanders, Mr. GiH says : —

"Thus it is evident that many of their gods were originally men. wfcose
spirits were supposed to enter into various birds, fish, reptile.*, and insect* ;
and into inanimate objects, sueh as the triton shell, particular trees, cinet,
sandstone, bits, of basalt, etc." (Rev. Wui. V\T. GUI, Myth* and Songs Jrvm
the South Pacific, p. 32.)

Ghosts in Stones. — The genesis of that form of fetichTsm which
ascribes supernatural powers to shapeless inanimate objects, is
very clearly exhibited in the following passages from a letter,
for which 1 am indebted to Commander W. H. Henderson, R.N.,
who dates from H.M.S. " Nelson,* Australian Station, October
9th, 1884:—

" While on the eastern side of the Island of Tanna, New Hebrides, in July
lastyear, I was told by the Rev. J. Gray, Presbyterian Missionary, stationed
at Wsisisi, near to the rolcane, m answer to an inquiry of mine relative to
the inconvenient position of hie house, that in oider to gain a footing he was
obliged to build where- the natives allowed him to. That the site he would

7i)0 APPENDIX A.

hare chosen included the piece of sacred ground on which were deposited
the stones in which they supposed the spirits of their departed relatives to
reside, that he had not keen able to get them removed, though he hoped to
be able to do so, and to purchase the ground. He stated that these stones
were common ones of various sizes ; that after being deposited they were not
again touched ; and that they seldom retained any sacredness as the abode of
the departed spirit for any length of time — a generation at the utmost —
most were soon forgotten. Soon after this, while at Tela Harbour, Sandwich,
or Vati Island, in the same group, the Rev. J. Mackenzie, also of the
Presbyterian Mission, showed me without reference to what I had heard at
Tanna, a collection of stones and rudely cut shells and stones, which he said
when he arrived there some years previously, were the only form of gods the
natives possessed, and into which they supposed the spirits of their departed
friends or relatives to enter ; though the recollection of them did not often
last long.

" Some of the stones were ordinary smooth water-worn boulders, three to
four inches long and from two to three inches in diameter. Others, one of
which I have in my possession, were similar, but had a small piece chipped
out on one side, by means of which the indwelling ghost or spirit was sup-
posed to have ingress or egress. A third and higher form were ruddy
fashioned shells or stones ; the former being cut out as large rings. These it
seamed to me were the beginnings of a graven image — a common stone sacred
as the dwelling-place of an ancestral ghost."

With snch evidence before us, we can scarcely doubt tbat in
other places where stones are worshipped, or regarded as sacred,
human ghosts are or were believed to be present in them ; and
that the stones sapposed to be possessed by powerful ghosts,
thus became the shrines of gods. Hence the interpretation of
such facts as this told us about the Karens : —

" Many keep stones in their houses that they suppose possess miraculous
powers and which seem to represent the household gods of the ancient*,"
(As. Soo. of Bengal, Journal, xxxiv, pt. 2, p. 223.)

And this told us about the Bowditch Islanders : —

" Their great god was called Tui Totelau, or King of Tofcehu. He was
supposed to be embodied in a stone, which was carefully wrapped up with
fine mats." (Turner, Samoa a Hundred Year* Ago, p. 268.)

And this told us about the Fijians : —

" The Fijians are unacquainted with idols properly so-called ; but they
reverence certain stones as shrines of gods, and regard some clubs with
superstitious respect. . . . Rude consecrated stones are to be seen near
Tuna, where offerings of food are sometimes made." {Fiji and the Fijians,
vol. i, by T. Williams, pp. 219 and 220.)

And here we are once more shown how baseless is the belief
of those who, in aid of their theories, theological or mythological,
assert that the noble types of man — the Aryan and Semitic —
displayed from the beginning, higher religious ideas than men of
inferior types. For besides having various other beliefs and
rites like those of existing savages, both of them agreed
with savages in exhibiting this lowest form of fetichism. In
their early days, the Greeks believed that ghosts dwelt in

APPENDIX A. 701

stone* ; and stones were the shrines of their gods. Pausanias

gives various instances ; and shows that these inhabited stones,

anointed with oil in propitiation, continued even in late days to

be regarded as sacred and to be occasionally honoured. So

was it, too, with the Hebrews ; as witness this passage : —

"The large smooth stones referred to above were the fetishes of the
primitive Semitic races, and anointed with oil, according to a widely spread
custom (comp. \iOot \irrapoi, lapides uncti, lubricati). It was such a stone
which Jacob took for a pillow, and afterwards consecrated by pouring oil upon
it (Gen. nviii, 11, 18). The early Semites and reactionary, idolatrous
Israelites called such stones Bethels, . . . i.e., houses of El (the early
Semitic word for God). . . . In spite of the efforts of the 'Jehovist,' who
desired to convert these ancient fetishes into memorials of patriarchal history
(comp. Gen. xxxi, 45-52), the old heathenish use of them seems to have
continued, especially in secluded places." (Rev. T. K. Cheyne, The Prophecies
of Isaiah: a New Translation with Commentary and Appendices, 1882,
vol. ii, p. 70).

Let us observe, too, how completely Jacob's conception of his
dream as caused by a god in the stone, corresponds with the
conceptions of existing savages. In his account of the Blantyre
negroes, the Rev. Duff Macdonald writes : —

" Very frequently a man presents an offering at the top of his own bed
beside his head. He wishes his god to come to him and whisper in his ear
as he sleeps." (Africana, vol. i, p. 60.)

I may add that Jacob's act of pouring oil on the stone in pro-
pitiation of the indwelling spirit (thus employing an established
mode of honouring living persons) points the way to an inter-
pretation of another usage of stone-worshippers. A Dakotah,
before praying to a stone for succour, paints it with some red
pigment, such as red ochre. Now when we read that along with
offerings of milk, honey, eggs, frnit, flour, etc., the Bodo and
Dhimais offer "red lead or cochineal, " we may suspect that
these three colouring matters, having red as their common
character, are substitutes for blood. The supposed resident
ghost was at first propitiated by anointing the stone with
human blood ; and then, in default of this, red pigment was
used : ghosts and gods being supposed by primitive men to be
easily deceived by shams.

Animal-naming among the Semites. — In vol. i, p. 126, Pal grave,
referring to an Arab, writes : — " 'Obeyd, ' the wolf,' to give him
the name by which he is commonly known, a name well earned
by his unrelenting cruelty and deep deceit/' Now read the
following from the Booh of Judges, vii, 25 : — " And they took
two princes of the Midianites, Oreb [raven] and Zeeb [wolf],
and they slew Oreb upon the rock Oreb, and Zeeb they slew at
the wine-press of Zeeb, and pursued Midian, and brought the
heads of Oreb and Zeeb to Gideon on the other side Jordan.1 '

TO2 APPENDIX A.

Thus we* hare proof that Semitic chiefs bore animal names;
doubtless given, m wo see they are still given, as nicknames.
With this we may join the fact that at the present time " the
Cabyles are said to distinguish their different tribes by figures
of animals tatooed on forehead, nose, temples, or cheeks :" imply-
ing descent from founders identified by name with these animals
(L. Geiger, Zeitsekr. 2>. M. G., 1869, p. 16&). When we pnt this
evidence side by side with that given in §§ 170-4, showing
how animal-naming among savages leads to belief in animal-
ancestors and to ttie propitiation of animals, it becomes still
more manifest that among Mesopotamian people*, animal-
gods and gods half-man half-brute, originated in the way
alleged.

Since the above was published in the first edition of this
work, there has appeared an interesting essay on " Animal
Worship and Animal Tribes," by Prof essor " Robertson Smith
(see Journal of PhUologgr vol. ix), in which he shows how
extensive is animal-naming, and the consequent rise of animal-
tribes, among existing Arabs. Here ia a part of a list given by
him: —

" Asad, lion ; ' a number of tribes.' Ato*, wolf ; ' a tribe of the AncAr,'
or Defenders. Badan, ibex; ^a tribe of the Kalb and others. ' Tha'laba^
she-fox ; * name of tribes.1 Gardd, locusts ; ( a sub-tribe of the Tamim.'
3«*t Samamoy sons of the dove ; 'a sub-tribe of , the Aid.' Thawrt ball ;
'•> sub-tribe of Hamdam and of 'Abd Manah.1 Oa^sh, calf of an ass; 'a
sub-tribe of the Arabs/ tfidd, kite ; « a sub-tribe of MurAd.' J>hfit wolf ;
' son of 'Amr, a sub-tribe of the Aid.' pu&ey'a, Utile hyaena ; * son of Qays,
a sub-tribe of Befar bin Wail.' " (p. 79.)

And continuing the list, Professor Smith gives as other
animal-names of tribes, lizard, eagle, she-goat, raven* hedgehog,
dog, whelp, jerboa, panthers* little panther, etc* He goes on to
say that —

" The origin of all these names is referred in the genealogical system of the
Arabs to an ancestor who bore the tribal or gentile name. Thus the Kalbt or
dog-tribe, consists of the Beni Kalb — sons of Kalb (the dog), who is in torn
son of Wabra (the female rockbadger)," ete. (p. 80.)

Rejecting this interpretation in favour of the interpretation of
Mr. M'Lennan, Professor Smith says —

" A conclusive argument against the genealogical system is that it is built
on the patriarchal theory. Every nation and every tribe must hare an
ancestor of the same name from whom kinship is reckoned exclusively in the
male line." (p. 81.)

And he thereupon contends that since kinship through females
is the primitive form, the system of tribal naming could not
have thus arisen* Bntr as I have elsewhere shown (§ 293), this
is not a necessary implication. Remarking that the system of
kinship through females evidently does not exclude the know-
ledge of male parentage (since in the rudest tr«be tuere is a

APPENDIX A- 79$

name for father as welt as for mother) I have pointed out that in
the same way among ourselves, the tracing of kinship through
males does not exclude a perfect recognition of motherhood.
And here I have to add that descent from a distinguished man
will naturally survive in tradition, notwithstanding the system
of kinship through females, and the male genealogy, regarded
with pride, will supplant the female ; just as among ourselves
the posterity of a woman of rank who married a man of low
degree, will preserve the record of their ancestress while drop-
ping that of their ancestor, notwithstanding the system of
descent through males. [On considering, after writing the above,
where I should be likely to find proof, there occurred to me the
case of Lord Clyde, of whom I had heard that his mother, a
woman of good family, had married a man of inferior origin.
Whether the name Campbell was that of his father or his mother,
I did not know; but inquiry proved my suspicion to be well
founded. His father's name was John Macliver, and his mother's
Agnes Campbell. By successive steps the maternal name
displaced the paternal name; and his daughter is now called
Miss Campbell. This, I think, makes it clear that notwith-
standing descent in the female line, the name of a distinguished
chief, usurping the place o£ the previous name, will readily
become a tribal name.]

But there is a co-operative cause. A tribe from time to
time divides, and the migrating part attaches itself to some
leader : a man of strength, or courage, or cunning, or resource.
How are members of the migrating part to be distinguished
by the remainder, and by adjacent tribes P Evidently by the
name of their leader or chief. They become known as followers
of the Snake, the Wolf, or the Bear, as the case may be. It
needs bat to recall the case of a Highland clan, all members
of which habitually acquired the clan-name, whether related
by blood to its head or not, to show how the tendency to speak
generally of the followers of the Snake as Snakes will conflict
with recognition of their maternally-derived relationships.
Especially when there grows up a new generation, having
individual names unknown to adjacent tribes, there will arise
an established practice of calling them Snakes — a practice ending
in the story of descent from an ancestral snake who was the
founder of the tribe. Hence the origin of the Snake Indians
of North America, or the Nagas (snakes) of the Indian Hills,
who are worshippers of the snake.

Animal-naming in Great Britain, — Anyone who upon occasion
speaks of a keen and merciless man as " a hawk," or of another
as " a pig " because of his dirtiness, ought to have no difficulty
in understanding how in rude times animal-names are acquired.

\

794 APPENDIX k,

While recognizing tbe exceptional cases of birth-naming
after some animal visible at the time of birth, he will the
less doubt that animal-names usually result from nicknaming,
on finding among ourselves cases in which the animal nick*
name becomes substituted for the conventional surname pre-
viously current. Two cases, one dating some centnries back,
and the other belonging to our own time, may be here given.
Doubtless there still exists, as there existed some years since
when I saw it, the remnant of an old castle built on an island in
Loch-an-Eilean in Rothiemurchus, which was, according to
tradition, a stronghold of the " Wolf of Badenoch." Wbo was
he P Mr. Cosmo Innes, in his Sketches of Early Scotch History
(p. 424), speaks of " the harrying of the country, and burning
of the church by the Wolf of Badenoch ; " and in his Scotland in
the Middle Ages (p. 297), says: — "The magnificent cathedral of
Elgin [was] .... so roughly handled by the Wolf of Badenoch
in the end of the fourteenth century, that the bishops called
their restoration a rebuilding." Mr. Innes does not give the
Christian name or surname of this robber-chief. Further in-
quiry, however, disclosed it. In Burton's History of Scotland
(vol. iii, p. 97), he is referred to as " King Robert's brother,
Alexander." Evidently, then, the original proper name had
become less familiar than the substituted nickname ; which sup-
planted it not only in popular speech, but partially in literature.
We have but to suppose times still ruder than those in which he
lived, and times in which Christianity had in no degree under-
mined primitive superstitions, to see that just as Earl Si ward,
of Northumbrian was said to be the grandson of an actual bear,
so the descendants of the Wolf of Badenoch would have been
described in tradition as derived from an actual wolf. A further
significant fact remains. It is stated in Jervise's Land of the
Lindsays (p. 350) that Countess Isabella "was the wife of the Wolf
of Badenoch." Here, in this very statement, the nickname has
replaced the pre-established name of the man, while the name
of the woman remains unchanged. It needs but that this
statement should be accepted literally, as such statements
are among the uncivilized, to understand how it happens that
here and there a family traces back its origin to a woman
identified by name, who was married to an animal ; as in
" the story of the origin of the Dikokamenni Kirghiz . . .
from a red greyhound and a certain queen with her forty hand-
maidens," quoted by Mr. M'Lennan from the Michells.

The other instance comes from the Forest of Dean, a region,
little visited, and retaining old usages. There the surname
" James " is so common that nicknames are required to distin-
guish among those bearing it. A gentleman known to me, Mr.
Keeling, C.E., of Cheltenham, having to find a man thus named,

APPENDIX A* 795

discovered tliat he was nicknamed "hoont" that is "mole."
Moreover he was one of a number who had inherited the nick-
name, and who had'their respective Christian names — John Hoont,
Henry Hoont, etc. Clearly, among savages a few generations
would have established the tradition of descent from an actual
mole : memory of the original bearer of the nickname having
died out. When we find that even where there are established
surnames of the civilized kind, nicknames derived from animals
usurp their places and become inherited, it seems to me scarcely
questionable that in the absence of established surnames,
animal-names will eventually becomes the names of geivtes and
tribes, supposed to be descended from the animals they are
named after — supposed, that is, by the uncivilized man, who is
without our general ideas of law, order, cause; who has no
notions of possible and impossible; who, without capacity
lor criticizing, accepts blindly the statements made to him
by his seniors; and who, indeed, were he critical, might
reasonably conclude that these metamorphoses of animals into
men were of the same nature as those animal metamorphoses
whicb really take place, and which he has observed. Strong
reason should be given before rejecting this interpretation
in face of the fact that savages themselves thus explain their
tribal names ; as instance the Arawaks, most of whom u assert
that each family is descended — their fathers knew how,
but they themselves have forgotten — from its eponymous
animal, bird, or plant." Once more, if it be admitted that
the conception of an animal-ancestor thus originates, it can
hardly be doubted that, going along with the ideas and feelings
respecting ancestors entertained by primitive men, it will
originate a special regard for the animal which gives the tribal
name — a regard which here results in making the animal a
sacred totem, and here in producing worship of it.

That our relatives the Scandinavians exemplified in their ideas
of the alliance between men and animals, certain further
results of animal-naming, is made tolerably clear by the follow-
ing passage : — -

" Brute* were included in the social compact, and dealt with as if they
had been rational creatures. If a bearer was killed, by the laws of Hakon
the Good a fine of three marks was paid to the owner of the ground, ' both
for bloodwite and hamesucken,' thus recognizing the animal s rights as an
inhabitant of the soil. The old Norwegian statutes decreed that ' the bear
and wolf shall be outlaws in every place.' . . . Yet even Bruin was entitled
to his judicial privileges j for if he had robbed or injured his two-legged
countrymen, it was necessary to summon a linwald court, and pronounce
him liable to punishment in due form. In the Saga of Finboga hinom Rama,
the grizzly offender is challenged to a duel, and slain by Finbog with all the
courtesies of chivalry. Werlauff, the editor of this sajra (Copenhagen, 1812),
says, the opinion that bears have a reasonable knowledge of Danish is still

796 APPENDIX A.

Srevalent in Norway. (Crichton and Wheaion* Scandinavia, Ancient and
. fodem, i, 192-3 (note).)

Animal-worship. — One of the causes assigned in the text
(§ 168) for the worship of animals, was the belief, illustrated
in sundry ways, that a creature found in the neighbourhood of
the dead body is a new form assumed by the double, or other-
wise a re- incarnation of the ghost. Here are further examples
of this belief : the first of them supplied bj the people of Bank's
Island.

" A woman knowing that a neighbour was at the point of death, heard a
rustling of something in her houser as if it were a moth fluttering, just at
the sound of cries and wailings showed her that the soul was flown. She
caught the fluttering thing between her hands, and ran with it, crying out
that she had caught the aiai [%.§., that which a * mm believes ' to ' be a kind
of reflection of his own personality ; the man and hi* atai lira, flourish,
aiiffer, and die (?) together/ 280-1}. But though she opened her han-ii
above the mouth of the corpse there was no recovery." (Coorington, Journal
of ike Anthropological Institute, x, 291.)

Here is another which the Samoans furnish.

" On the beach, near where a person had been drowned, and whose bodv
was supposed to have become a porpoise, or on the battlefield, where another
fell, might have been seen, sitting in silence, a group of five or six, and one
a few yards before them, with a sheet of native cloth spread out on the
ground in front of him. Addressing some god of the family ha said, ' Oh,
be kind to us ; let ns obtain without difficulty the spirit of the young man !'
The first thing that happened to light upon the sheet was supposed to be the
spirit . . . grasshopper, butterfly, ant, or whatever else it might be, it was
carefully wrapped up, ta1 n to the family, the friends assembled, and the
bundle buried with ail dne ceremony, as if it contained the real spirii of the
departed." (Turner, Samoa a Hundred Years. Ago, pp. 160-14

Along with this belief respecting ordinary ghost*, the

Samoans have an allied, and to ail appearance resulting, belief,

>> \ respecting extraordinary ghoata.

1 " The village goda, like those of the household, had all some particular

incarnation : one was supposed to appear as a Vat, another aa a heron,

j* another as an awL ... A dead owl found under a tree in the aettlemeat

was the signal for all the village to assemble at the place, burn their bodies
with firebrands, and beat their foreheads with stones till the blood flowed,

' and so they expressed their sympathy and condolence with the god over the

calamity * by an offering of blood.' He still lived, however, and moved about
in all the other existing owls of the country. (Turner, 8amoa a Hundred
Years Ago, pp. 21 and 26.)*

Concerning these same people T may add that they furnish a
striking example of the way in which unlimited credulity causes
that literal acceptance of traditions, which ia many cases ends
in the belief in animal-ancestors and resulting worship of tbem.
Turner tells ns that the Samoans have traditions of battles
between trees, birds, fish> and beasts i and after giving some
examples, he says : —

* I tell them that the shark, red JUh, etc,, must hare been mere figurati*

V^B

APPENDIX A- 797

nam*a for chiefs and districts, and the finny troops under them were doubt-
lew living 0M«, but in ail these stories the Samoans are rigid literalists, and
l<elioro in the very words of the tradition. And yet at the present day they
have towns and districts bearing .figurative names, distinct from the real
names, such as the sword fish, the stinging ray, the dog, the wild boar, the
Tongau cock, the frigate bird, etc." {Samoa a Hundred Tears Ago, pp. 213-4.)

Snake-Ancestors in North America, — A recently published
work, The Snake-Dance of the Moquis of Arizona, by John Gk
Bourke, gives some interesting facts illustrative of the belief in
snake-ancestors. Giving bis inferences from the evidence, the
writer says —

" My own suspicion is that one of the minor objects of the snake-dance
has been the perpetuation in dramatic form of the legend of the origin
and growth of the Moqui family (p. 178). ... In the religious dances of
such peoples as the Zunis, Moquis, and Querez, suggestions of their his-
tory and previous environment will crop out in features which from any
other point of view would be without import. The fact that the snake-
dance reflects in some manner the worship of ancestors has already been
indicated, but beyond learning that the willow wands standing around the
altars commemorated their dead, nothing was elicited at Hualpi. . . . Should
it be shown positively, as I think can be done, that snake worship and
ancestor or spirit worsnip are combined in the same rite, we may . . . with
a little more patient work determine whether or not the Moquis have ever
believed in the transmigration of souls (p. 179)." . . . Nanahe persistently
" spoke of the snakes as his ' fathers,' a reverential expression which of itself
would go far towards establishing a connexion between the rattlesnake-
dance and ancestor worship " (p. 195).

These conclusions were based upon statements elicited from
one of the Indians who took part in the snake-dance, of which
the following are the most significant ones : —

" Nanahe continued : ' The members of the order always carry these medi-
cines with them, and when they meet with a rattlesnake they first pray to
their father, the sun, and then say : * father, make him to be tame ; make
him that nothing shall happen that he bring evil unto me. Verily, make
him to be tame.' Then they address the rattlesnake and say t ' Father, be
good ' (i.e. kind or tame) ' unto me, lor here I make my prayers.' This being
done, tne rattlesnake is raptured . . . and taken home (p. 189) . . .' "

Nahi-vehma (the Peacemaker) said, "Many years ago the Moquis used to
five upon the other side of a high mountain, beyond the San Juan River. . . .
The ohief of those who lived there thought he would take a trip down the
big river to see where it went to. . . . The stream carried him to the sea-
shore. . . . When he arrived on the beach he saw on top of a cliff a number
of houses, in which lived many men and women. . . . That night he took
unto himself one of the women as his wife. Shortly after his return to his
home the woman gave birth to snakes, and this was the origin of the snake
family (gens or clan) which manages this dance. When she gave birth to
these snakes they bit a number of the children of the Moquis. The Moquis
then moved in a body to their present villages, and they have this dance to
conciliate the snakes, so that they won't bite their children " (p. 177).

In another chapter the writer refers to a large amount of con-
firmatory evidence showing the prevalence elsewhere of kindred
ideas.

798 APPENDIX A.

The Snake- Spirit among the Ancients. — A verification of the

view set forth in §§ 167-8, is furnished by the following passage

from the MneH, Bk. v, 75.

<£neas " was already on his way from the council to the tomb [of Anchisee,
hie father] . . . Here in dne libation, he pours on the ground two bowls of
the wine-god's pure juice, two of new milk, two of sacrificial blood ; he
flings bright flowers, and makes this utterance : — ' Hail to thee, blessed sire,
once more ! Hail to you, ashes of one rescued in rain, spirit and shade of my
father !'...' He had said this, when from the depth of the grave a smooth
shining serpent trailed along . . . coiling peacefully round the tomb, and
gliding between the altars. . . . .Apneas stood wonderstruck : the creature
• . . tasted of the viands, and then, innocent of harm, re-entered the tomb
at its base, leaving the altars where its mouth had been. Quickened by this,
the hero resumes the work of homage to his sire, not knowing whether to
think this the genius of the spot or his father's menial spirit."

Though here, along with the conceptions of a higher stago
than that described in §§ 167-8, there is not distinct identi-
fication of the snake with the ancestral ghost, some connexion
between them is assumed. That among the possible relations
between the tomb-haunting animal and the deceased person,
metamorphosis will be supposed by early peoples, is clear. And
that hence results the identification of owls and bats (ami
possibly scarabcei) with souls, can no longer be doubted.

A striking verification of the foregoing inference has come to
me quite recently (1884) in an essay entitled A Sepulchral Relief
from Tarentum, by Mr. Percy Gardner (reprinted from the
Journal of Hellenic Studies, vol. v). Discussing the reasons
assigned for the not infrequent presence of sculptured snakes
on sepulchral tablets, representing ministrations to deceased
persons, Mr, Gardner says : —

" We know that it was by no means unusual among the Greeks to hare
tame snakes, and to allow them the range of the house." . . . The inference
of some is " that his [the snake's] presence in these reliefs must have refer-
ence to the widely-spread belief of ancient times, that snakes were either the
companions or even the representatives of dead heroes. I need not surely
bring forward proofs of this statement, but I may for a moment pause to
point out how ancient science explained the fact. Plutarch tells us, that
when the dead bed v of Cleomenes was hanging on the cross in Egypt, a large
serpent was seen wound about it, repelling the attacks of the birds of prey
who would have fed on it. This phenomenon, he says, terrified some of the
Alexandrians, as proving that Cleomenes was a hero of semi-divine nature,
until it was pointed out, that as the dead body of a bull produces. bees and
that of a horse wasps, so the dead body of a man produces in the natural
course of its decay, snakes."

Here then we find farther support for the conclusion drawn
in § 167, that a house-haunting animal is liable to be iden-
tified with a returned ancestor ; at tfce same time that we get
an illustration of the supposed mode of metamorphosis — a mode
supposed in sundry. cases of kindred superstitions; as in the be-
lief that gods take the shape of flies — a belief of the Accadians,
of the Philistines, and of some extant North American lndiaus.

APPENDIX A. 799

T may add that certain incidents attending the worship of
Agklepios, while they serve in one way to verify the above
inferences, serve to show how, nnder some circumstances, snake-
worship arises in a parti ally- different way. Originally re-
ferred to by Homer as a physician (i.e., a medicine-man),
among whose sources of influence, skill as a snake-charmer may
naturally have been one (giving origin to the habitual repre-
sentation of him as holding a staff round which a serpent is
coiled), Asklepios, in the later periods of his worship, is himself
represented as a serpent. Speaking of certain Roman coins,
Mr. Warwick Wroth, of the British Museum, says: —

"On the reverse of this specimen Oaracalla is represented in military dress,
with his right hand upraised to salute a serpent entwined around a tree, its
head towards the Emperor. . . . That the serpent who is here receiving
adoration is Asklepios is rendered certain both by the presence of Tele-
sphoros, and by a comparison of this piece with another or Caracalla's Per-

famene coins, . . . Although the serpent is an attribute of the God of
lealing, which is almost invariably present, it is not usuul to find the god
represented as on the coin now under discussion. Serpents, however, were
kept in many of his temples, and, indeed, were sometimes considered as the
incarnation of the deity himself, especially in the transmission of his worship
from one city to another. Thus, the people of Sikyon traced the origin of
their Asklepios eultus to a Sikyonian woman who had brought the god from
Epidaurus in the form of a serpent. In the form of a serpent also the god
was brought from Epidaurus to Rome. On a famous medallion of Antoninus
Pius we see the serpent — that is, Asklepios — about to plunge from the
Teasel which has conveyed him into the waves of Father Tiber, who welcomes
him with outstretched hand, and upon whose island the first Roman temple of
the new divinity was afterwards erected. This medallion bears the inscription,
.JSscvlapivs." (Asklepios and the Coins of Pergamon [republished from The
Numismatic Chronicle, 3rd series, vol. ii], by Warwick Wroth, Esq., pp. 47-8.)

Lotus-worship. — I have not included in the chapter on plant-
worship, the case of the lotus; because I did not wish to
endanger the general argument by a doubtful support. The
evidence is, however, sufficient to raise the suspicion that lotus-
worship arose in the same way as did soma- worship.

Clearly some plant, or the product of some plant, called lotus,
was eaten as a nervous stimulant, producing a state of blissful
indifference; though among sundry plants which have gone
by the name, it is not decided which was the one. Further,
there was in the East the belief in a divinity residing in a
water-plant known as the lotus; and at present in Thibet,
worship of this divinity in the lotus is the dominant religion.
As is stated in Mr. Wilson's Abode of Snow, pp. 304-6, the daily
and hourly prayer is " Om mani padme haun," which literally
rendered means, " O God ! the jewel in the lotus. Amen."
The word mani, here translated jewel, and meaning more
generally a precious thing, is variously applied to sacred objects
— to the long stone tumuli, to the prayer-mills, etc. So tha'j

800 APPENDIX A.

reading through the figurative expression to the origin p I
thought, it would seem to be — " Ok God ! the precious or sacred
power in the lotus." Difficulties in explaining the ancient
legend about lotus-eating, as well as this existing superstition,
arise from the fa«st that the plant now known as the lotus Has
no toxic qualities. There is, however, a possible solution. The
lotus has a sweet root ; and at the present time in Cashmere,
this root is hooked up from the bottoms of the lakes and used
as food. But a sweet root contains -fermentable matters — both
the saccharine and the amylaceous : even now, alcohol is made
from beet-root. Possibly, then, in early times the juice and
starch of the lotus-root were used, just as the sap of the palm is
in some places used still, for making an intoxicating beverage;
and the beliefs concerning the lotus may have survived in times
when this beverage was replaced by others more easily pro-
duced. The fact that in the early days of soma- worship the juice
was fermented, while in later days it was not (other kinds of
intoxicating liquors having come into use), yields additional
reason for thinking so. Be this as it may, however, we have
this evidence: — some plant yielding a product causing a
pleasurable mental state, was identical in name with a plant
regarded as sacred because of an indwelling god.

It is, indeed, alleged that in Egypt the lotus was sacred as a
symbol of the Nile, and that the Indian lotus stood in like
relation to the Ganges. I notice this interpretation for the purr
pose of remarking that I do not believe any early usage aroso
through symbolization. This is one of the many erroneous
interpretations whioh result from ascribing developed ideas to
undeveloped minds. No one who, instead of fancying how
primitive usages could have arisen, observes how they do arise,
will believe that the primitive man ever deliberately adopted a
symbol, or ever even conceived of a symbol as such. All
symbolic actions are modifications of actions which originally
had practical ends — were not invented but grew. The case «rf
mutilations sufficiently exemplifies the process.

Other- Worlds, — The speculation ventured in § 113, that con-
quest of one race by another introduces beliefs' in different other
worlds, to which the superior and inferior go, is supported by
this passage which I have since met with : —

" If there are strong caste-distinctions, the souls of Uie noble and ohief
men are said to go .to a better country than those of the rest. ... It is for
this reason that in Cochin China, common people do not entertain the souls
of their friends on the same day of the AU«£!oul»' feast as that on which the
nobility have invited theirs j because otherwise those souls when returning
would have their former servants to «arry the gifts received." — Bastiam,
VergL Psychology, p. 89.

APPENDIX A, 801

Superstitions of the Russians. — Under foregoing heads the
examples of each form of superstition resulting from the ghost-
theory, are taken from divers societies. Here it will be instruc-
tive to present an entire series of these several forms of snch
superstitions as exhibited in the same society. This is done in
the following extracts from Mr. Ralston's Songs of the Russian
People.

Because they believe one of the forms of the soul to be the shadow " there
are persons there who object to having their silhouettes taken, fearing that if
they do so they will die before the year is out." (p. 117.)

'* \ man's reflected image is supposed to be in communion with his inner
•elf." (p. 117.)

" The Servians believe that the soul of a witch often leaves her body while
she is asleep, and flies abroad in the shape of a butterfly." (pp. 117-S.)

" After death the soul at first remains in the neighbourhood of the body,
and then follows it to the tomb. The Bulgarians hold that it assumes the
form of a bird or a butterfly, and sits oik the- nearest tree waiting till the
funeral is over." (p. 115.)

" A common belief among the Russian peasantry is that the spirits of the
departed haunt their old homes for the space of six weeks, during which they
eat and drink, and watoli the sorrowing of the mourners." (p. 118.)

" Great care is taken to provide the dead man with what he requires on
his long journey, especially with a handkerchief and towel, . . . and with a
coin . . . for the purpose of buying a place in the other world . . . The
custom of providing; money for the corpse has always been univeisal among
the Slavonians." (pp. 315-6.)

Mourning " was formerly attended by laceration of the faces of the
mourners, a custom still preserved among some of the inhabitants of Dal-
matia and Montenegro." (p. 316.)

Among the old Slavonians " in some eases at least,, human sacrifices were
offered on the occasion of a burial." (p. 324*.)

" In addition to being accompanied by his widow, the heathen Slavonian,
if a man of means and distinction, was solaced by the sacrifice of some of his
slaves." (p. 828.)

On Dmitry's Saturday " the peasants attend a church service, and after-
wards they go out to the graves of their friends, and there institute a feast,
lauding . . . the virtues and good qualities of the dead, and then driuking
to their eternal rest." (p. 260.)

" In olden days a memorial banquet was held in his [the departed one's]
honour on the third, sixth, ninth, and fortieth day after his death, and on
its anniversary, and he was remembered also in the feasts celebrated . . .
in memory of the Fathers. ... To these feasts it was customary to invite
the dead. . . . Silently the living . . . threw portions of the food under the
table for their spirit-guests." (pp. 320-1.)

" Among the (non-Slavonic) Mordvins in the Penza and Saratof Govern-
ments, a dead man's relations offer the corpse eggs, butter, and money, say-
ing : * Here is something for you : Marfa has brought you this. Watch over
her corn and cattle.' " (p. 121.)

" The festival called Rddunitsa ... is chiefly devoted to the memory of
the dead. In certain districts the women and girls still take food and drink
to the cemeteries, and there ' howl ' over the graves of their dead friends and
relatives. When they have 'howled* long enough, they . . . proceed to
eat, drink, and be merry, deeming that the dead c*u ' rejoice ' with ihem."
(p. 222.)

802 appendix ^

" Here is a specimen of a Prichitame, intended to be recited orer a grave
on the twentieth of April . . .

• O ye, our own fathers and mothers ! in what have we angered you, our
own, that you have no welcome for iw, no ioy, no parental charm ? . . .*

And here ... is a specimen of an orphan's wailing abore her mother's
grave: —

* O mother dear that bare me, O with sadness longed-for one ! To whom
hast thou left us, on whom are we orphans to rest our hopes ? . . . Have a
care for us, mother, dear, give us a word of kindness! No, thou bast
hardened thy heart harder than stone, and hast folded thy uncaressing hands
over thy heart.' " (pp. 343-4.)

There is good evidence that " tbe Domovoy or house-spirit **
(p. 119) is an ancestor. "The Rnthenians reverence in the
person of the Domovoy the original constructor of the family
hearth." (p. 122.) "In some districts tradition expressly refers
to the spirits of the dead the functions which are generally
attributed to the Domovoy, and they are supposed to keep
watch over the house of a descendant who honours them and
provides them with due offerings." (p. 121.)

" The Russian peasant draws a clear line between his own Domovoy an 1
his neighbour's. The former is a benignant spirit, who will do him good,
even at the expense of others ; the latter is a malevolent being, who will
very likely steal his hay, drive away his poultry, and so forth, for his neigh-
bour's benefit." (pp. 129-130.)

" The domestic spirits of different households often engage in contests
with one another." (p. 130.)

" In Bohemia fishermen are afraid of assisting a drowning man, thinking
the Todyany [water-sprite] will be offended, and will drive away the fish
from their nets." (p. 152.)

"According to some traditions she [the witch Baba Taga] even feeds
on the souls of the dead. The White-Russians, for instance, affirm thai
'. . . . the Baba Taga and her subordinate witches feed on the souls of
people.' M (p. 163.)

During a drought some peasants " dug up the body of a Raskolnik, or
Dissenter, who had died in the previous December, and had been buried
in the village graveyard. Some of the party then beat it about the head,
exclaiming, • Give us rain ! ' M (pp. 426-6.)

"In White-Russia the Domovoy is called Timok, a snake, . • . This
House Snake brings all sorts of good to the master who treats it well, and
gives it omelettes, which should be placed on the roof of the house or on the
threshing-floor." (pp. 124-5.)

" By the common people of the present day snakes are there [in Russia]
looked upon with much respect and even affection. ' Our peasants,* says
Afanasief, 'consider it a happy omen if a snake takes up its quarters m
a c >ttage, and they gladly set out milk for it. To kill such a snake would
be a very great sin. (p. 175.)

" Some traces of tree-worship may be found in the song which the girk
sing as they go into the woods to fetch the birch-tree . . .

" Rejoice, Birch-tree, rejoice green ones ! . • •
To you the maidens !
To you they bring pies,
Cakes, omelettes.

" The eatables here mentioned seem to refer to sacrifices offered in olden
days to the birch, the tree of the spring." (p. 238.)

APPENDIX A.

" They [the old heathen Slavonians] appear to hare looked u i
beyond the grave as a mere prolongation of that led on eartl i
man retained at least some of his possesions j the slave remain* <
(p. 114.)

Many instructive passages might be added. The
said to complain of the pressure of the earth on them ;
themselves as cold; and at festivals to which they an
are sympathized with as tired and hungry. Ancestit
are carried to new homes ; diseases are evil spirits c I
bodily shapes ; there are wizards who control the weat. ;
ride in dust- whirlwinds. But the above suffice to si
completely the ghost-theory has developed into an
worship, betraying, notwithstanding the repressive i:
of Christianity, all the essentials of a religion — ;
prayers, praises, festivals.

Apotheosis in Polynesia. — The more the evidence fun
every race is looked into, the more irresistible beet
conclusion that gods were originally men: sometin
ordinary men, but usually men in some way superior, 1:
either to the tribe or to a conquering tribe. That v
traditions of the Egyptians tell us, namely, that Ej;
originally ruled by a dynasty of gods; that which v
Greek beliefs as set down by Herodotus, who disti
Minos as preceding the generations of men, and belc
the dynasty of the gods ; that which is implied by the .
story that Jimmu, " the fifth ruler in descent from
goddess," was " considered to have been the first morh
(Adams' History of Japan, vol. i, p. 7) ; is shown ui
uncivilized. These now entertain ideas like those en
by the progenitors of the civilized. Here are a few insta

" Bangi requested the invincible warrior Tangiia to send him
sons as a god. (Oill, Myth* and Songs from the South Pacific, \

"And yet, strangely enough, associated with these original go
deified heroes of antiquity, in no wise inferior to their fellow
(Ibid , p. 20.)

"The proper denizens of Avaiki [Hades* an underground worl
major and lesser divinities, with their dependents. These marry
and quarrel like mortals. They wear clothing, plant, cook, fish,
inhabit dwellings of exactly the same sort as exist on earth. T
immortals is no better than that eaten by mankind. . . . Murdei
drunkenness, theft, and lying are practised by them. The ai
world are fac-similes of what primarily belonged to nether-land
taught to mankind by the gods." {Ibid., p. 154.)

There is a tradition of a council of gods to determine as to mai
tality. '* While the discussion was proceeding a pouring rain ca
broke up the meeting. The gods ran to the houses for shelter."
Samoa a Hundred Years Ago, pp. 8-9.)

Concerning the natives of San Christoval, Solomon
we are told that : —

3 j :

804 APPENDIX A.

" The bodies of common people are thrown into the sea, bat men of conse-
quence are buried. After a time they take up the skull or some part of the
skeleton, and put it in a small building in the Tillage, where upon occasions
thej pray or sacrifice to obtain help from the spirit." (Codrington, Journal
of the Anthropological Institute, x, 800.)

But perhaps the clearest evidence, as well as the most
abundant, is that furnished by the Fijians. Since writing the
comparison made in § 201, between the Greek pantheon and the
pantheon of the Fijians, an unknown friend has been good
enough to forward me a statement which bears, in an interest-
ing way, on the question. It is contained in a parliamentary
paper, Correspondence respecting the Cession of Fiji, presented
February 6, 1875, p. 57. This document concerns the native
, ownership of land ; and the passage I refer to appears to be
appended for the purpose of showing how the native idea of
ownership is affected by the associated creed : —

" Notb. — Their fathers or their Gods. — It may not be out of place in con-
nection with the abore memorandum to advance one or two facts with the
object of showing that the head of the tribe, i.e., its highest living male
ascendant, was regarded as its father. He held absolute authority over the
persons, property, and lives of his people, and both before and after death
had the same reverence shown to him as to a God.

" The Fijian language makes no distinction, in terms, between the marks
of respect and reverence rendered to a Chief and those rendered to a God.
I will select a few words, with their meanings, from Hazelwood's Fijian
Dictionary. '1. Tama — a father. 2. Tama-ka — to reverence, to clap
hands, or to make some expression of a God or Chief. 3. Cabora — to
offer or present property to a God or to a Chief. 4. Ai sevn — the first dug
yams, the first fruits, which are generally offered to the Gods and given
to a Chief of a place. 5. Tauvu, and Veitauvu — Literally, to have the same
root, or sprung from the same Bource ; used of people who worship the same
God.' ...

" The swearing of Fijians is like that of the High Asiatic peoples. Two
men quarrelling never swear at each other personally, nor even utter their
respective names ; they will curse their fathers, their grandfathers, and their
most remote ancestry. The reason being that to curse a Fijian's father is to
curse his God. . . . The successive stages of authority among the Fijian
people is first, that of the individual family ; secondly, the association of
many families, which constitute the Qali; and thirdly, the union of these
QaLis under their recognized hereditary Chief, which constitutes the Matsv-
nitu. It is the Family, Gens, and Tribe of early history found extant, and
as a system still closely observed in Polynesia at the present day."

This account agrees completely with the indications given
by earlier voyagers and missionaries; as witness the following
extracts : —

" It is impossible to ascertain with any degree of probability how many
gods the 9eejeeans have, as any man who can distinguish himself in murder-
ing his fellow-men may certainly secure to himself deification after his
death." (Erskine's Western Pacific, p. 246.)

The lower order of Fijian gods " generally described as men of superior
mould and carriage," "bear a close analogy to the lares, le mures, and genii
of the Romans." " Admission into their number is easy, and any one m .y

ATPENDIX A. 805

secure his own apotheosis who can insure the service of some one as his
representative and priest after his decease.0 (Williams, Fiji, etc., pp. 218-9.)

Natnre-Gods. — Here are a few further facts supporting the
conclusion that after the rise of the ghost-theory, the various
kinds of objects which irregularly appear, disappear, and re-
appear, in the heavens, are frequently regarded as ghosts.
Says Gill, concerning the fates of the Mangaians after death : —

" Not so warriors slain on the field of battle. The spirits of these lucky
fellows for a while wander about amongst the rocks and trees in the neigh-
bourhood of which their bodies were thrown. ... At length the first slain
on each battle-field would collect his brother ghosts/' and lead them to the
summit of a mountain) whence " they leap into the blue expanse, thus be-
coming the peculiar clouds of the winter." [Compare with North American
Indians among whom the name " Cloud" is frequent in Catlin's list.}
(Gill, Myths and Songs from the South Pacific, pp. 162-3.)

" It was supposed that in these lower regions there were neavens, earth and
sea, fruits and flowers, planting, fishing and cooking, marrying and giving
in marriage— all -very much as in the world from which they had gone.
Their new bodies, however, were singularly volatile, could ascend at night,
become luminous sparks [stars] or vapour, revisit their former homes and
retire again at early dawn to the bush or to the Folotu hades. These visits
were dreaded, as they were supposed to be errands of destruction to the living,
especially to any with whom the departed had reason to be angry. By
means of presents and penitential confession all injurers were anxious to
part on good terms with, the dying whom they had ill-used." (Turner,
Samoa a Hundred Tears Ago, p. 259.)

. . . . " Others saw their village-god in the rainbow, others saw him in the
shooting-star ; and in time of war the position of a rainbow and the direction
of a shooting-star were always ominous." {Ibid., p. 21.)

Mountain Deities. — In § 114, 1 suggested two ways in which
ancestor- worship originates beliefs in gods who reside on the
highest peaks and have access to the heavens. Burial of the
dead on mountain crags, I indicated as one origin; and the
occupation of mountain strongholds by conquering races, as
probably another origin. I have since met with verifications of
both suggestions.

The first of them is contained in the Travels in the Philippines,
by F. Jagor. Giving proof that before the Spanish settlement
the people had the ordinary ideas and customs of ancestor-
worshippers, he describes the sacred burial caves ; and shows
the survival of the religious awe with which these caves were
originally regarded. He visited some of these caves at Nipa-
Nipa ; and says (p. 259) that " the numerous coffins, implements,
arms, and trinkets, protected by superstitious terrors, continued
to be undisturbed for centuries. No boat ventured to cross
over without the observance of a religious ceremony, derived
from heathen times, to propitiate the spirits of the caverns, who
were believed to punish the omission of it with storm and ship-
wreck." Moreover he tells us that the boatmen who went with

806 APPENDIX A.

the pastor of Baaey to the cave to get remains, regarded a
thunderstorm which broke on their way back, as " a punish-
ment for their outrage." Affcer thus exhibiting the popular
beliefs as they still exist, notwithstanding Catholic teaching, he
proves, from early writers, what these beliefs originally were.
It appears that men when dying often chose their burial-places ;
and he quotes one authority to the effect that " those who were
of note" sometimes had their coffins deposited "on an elevated
place or rock on the bank of a river, where they might be
venerated by the pious." (p. 262.) He says that TheVenofc
describes them as worshipping " those of their ancestors who
had most distinguished themselves by courage and genius,
whom they regarded as deities. . . . Even the aged died under
this conceit, choosing particular places, such as one on the
island of Leyt6, which allowed of their being interred at the
edge of the sea, in order that the mariners who crossed over
might acknowledge them as deities, and pay them respect"
(p. 263.) And he also quotes Gemelli Careri, who says that
" the oldest of them chose some remarkable spot in the mountains,
and particularly on headlands projecting into the sea, in order
to be worshipped by the sailors." (p. 263.) This combination
of facts is, I think, amply significant. We have distinguished
persons becoming gods after death ; we see them providing for
this apotheosis, and in a sense demanding worship ; we find
them choosing high and conspicuous burial-places to facilitate
the worship ; we see that approach to burial-places is regarded
as sacrilege ; and we see that the ghosts of the dead have
become deified to the extent that they are supposed to vent
their anger in thunderstorms. Here are all the elements from
which might result a Philippine Sinai.

The instance to which I refer as showing that invaders, or
dominant men, seizing a high stronghold (see § 114), may give
origin to a celestial hierarchy, whose residence is a mountain
top, 1 take from Bancroft's version of the Quiche^ legend. It
begins with a time when as yet there was no Sun (possibly
a fragment of some still more ancient story brought south-
wards by dwellers in the Arctic regions) ; and in the first
place narrates a migration in search of the San.

" So the four men and their people set out for Tulan-Zuiva, otherwise
called the Seven-caves or Seven-ravines, and there they received gods, each
man as head of a family, a god j though inasmuch as the fourth man, lqi-
Bal&m, had no children, and founded no family, his god is not usually takes
into the account. . . . Many other trials also they underwent in Tulaa,
famines and such things, and a general dampness and oold, — for the earth
was moist, there being as yet no sun. . . . They determined to leave Tulan ;
and the greater part of them, under the guardianship and direction of Tohil,
net out to see where they should take up their abode. They continued oo
their waj* amid the most extreme hardsLins for wunt of iood. ... At last

APPENDIX A* 607

&ev came to a mountain that they named Hacavita, after one of their gods,
and here they rested, — for here they were by some means given to under-
stand that they should see the sun. . . . And the sun, and the moon, and
the stars were now all established. Yet was not the sun then in the begin-
ning the same as now j his heat wanted force, and he was but as a reflection
in a mirror. [This is explained if we suppose migration from the far norl h.]
• . . Another wonder when the sun rose! The three tribal gods, Tohil*
Avilix, and Hacavita, were turned into stone, as were also the gods con-
nected with the lion, the tiger, the viper, and other fierce and dangerous
animals. . . . And the people multiplied on this Mount Hacavitz, and here
they built their city. • . • And they worshipped the gods that had becomo
atone, Tohil, Avilix, and Hacavita. . . . They began to wet their altars with
the heart's blood of human victims. From their mountain hold they
watched for lonely travelers belonging to the surrounding tribes, seized,
overpowered, and slew them for a sacrifice. . . . The hearts of the villagers
were thus fatigued within them, pursuing unknown enemies. At last, how-
ever, it became plain that the gods Tohil, A villi, and Hacavitz, and their
worship, were in some way or other the cause of this bereavement : so the
people of the villages conspired against them. Many attacks, both openly and
by ruses, did they make on the gods, and on the four men, and on the
children and people connected with them ; but not once did they succeed, so
great was the wisdom, and power, and courage of the four men and of their
deities. ... At last the war was finished. . . . And the tribes humiliated
themselves before the face of Balam-Quitze, of Balam-Agab, and of Mahu-
cutah. . . . Now it came to pass that the time of the death of Balam-Quitz^,
Balam-Agab, Mahucutah, and Iqi-Balam drew near. . . . And they said :
we return to our people. ... So the old men took leave of their sons
and their wives. . . . Then instantly the four old men were not ; but in their
place was a great bundle. ... So it was called the Majesty Enveloped
. . . and they burned incense before it." [Such a bundle was said " to
contain the remains of Oamaxtli, the chief god of Tlascala."j KaUce
Jfrieaf, etc., vol. iii, pp. 49-64.

Men in the Sky. — Already the Esquimaux have famished in

the text an illustration of the primitive belief that stars, etc.,

were originally men and animals who lived on the Earth (§ 190).

In the work of Dr. Rink, I find a detailed account of Esquimaux

ideas concerning the physical connexion between the upper and

lower worlds, and the routes joining them : —

" The earth, with the sea supported by it, rests upon pillars, and covers an
under world, accessible by various entrances from the sea, as well as from
mountain clefts. Above the earth an upper world is found, beyond which
the blue sky, being of a solid consistence, vaults itself like an outer shell,
and, as some say, revolves around some high mountain-top in the far north.
The upper world exhibits a real land with mountains, valleys, and lakes.
After death, human souls either go to the upper or to the under world. The
latter is decidedly to be preferred, as being warm and rich iu food. There
are the dwellings of the happy dead called arrant* —vis., those who live in
abundance. On the contrary, those who go to the upper world will suffer
from cold and famine ; and these are called art8oHuty or ball-players, on
account of their playing at ball with a walrus-head, which gives rise to the
aurora borealis, or northern light*. Further, the upper world must be con*
sidered a continuation of the earth in the direction of height, although those
individuals, or at least those souls temporarily delivered from the body, that
are said to have visited it, for the most part passed through the air. The upper

808 APPENDIX A.

world, it would seem, may be considered identical with the mountain round
the top of which the vaulted sky is for ever circling — the proper road leading
to it from the foot of the mountain upwards being itself either too far off or
too steep. One of the talcs also mentions a man going in his kayak [boat]
to the border of the ocean, where the sky comes down to meet it." (pp. 37-8.)
" The upper world is also inhabited by several rulers besides the souls of
the deceased. Among these are the owners or inhabitants of celestial bodies,
who, having been once men, were removed in their lifetime from the earth,
but are still attached to it in different ways, and pay occasional visits to it
They have also been represented as the celestial bodies themselves, and not
their inue only, the tales mentioning them in both ways. The owner of the
moon originally was a man, called Aningaut, and the xntM of the sun was his
sister. • . . The erdlaveersusok — viz., the entrail-eeizer— is a woman residing
on the way to the moon, who takes out the entrails of every person whom
she can tempt to laughter. The siagtut, or the three stars in Orion's belt,
were men who were lost in going out to hunt on the ice." (pp. 48*9.)

There could scarcely be better proof that the personalization
of heavenly bodies has resulted from the supposed translation
of terrestrial beings — men and animals — to the sky. Here wo
have the upper world regarded as physically continuous with the
lower world as well as like it in character ; and the migration to
it after death parallels those migrations to distant parts of the
Earth's surface after death, which primitive races in general
show ns. While we have no evidence of Nature- worship, we
have clear evidence of identification of celestial bodies with tra-
ditional persons. That is to say, personalization of the heavenly
bodies, precedes worship of them, instead of succeeding it, as
mythologists allege. Joining these facts with those given in the
text, the origin of names for constellations and the genesis of
astrology, are made, I think, sufficiently clear.

Star-Qods. — While the proofs of these pages are under cor-
rection [this refers to the first edition], I am enabled to add an
important piece of evidence, harmonizing with the above, and
supporting sundry of the conclusions drawn in the text. It is
furnished by a Babylonian inscription (Rawlinson's Cuneiform
Inscriptions, etc., iii, 53, No. 2, lines 36, etc.), which, as trans-
lated by Prof. Schrader, runs thus : —

41 The star Venus at sunrise is Ishtar among the gods,
The star Venus at sunset is Baaltis among the gods."

We have thus another case of multiple personality in a
heavenly body, analogous to the cases of the Sun and Moon
before pointed out (§ 191), but 'differing in definiteness. For
whereas, before, the belief in two or more personalities was
inferred, we here have it directly stated. This belief, inex-
plicable on any current theory, we see to be perfectly explicable
us a result of birth-naming.

Religion of the Iranians. — Dr. Scheppig has translated for me

APPENDIX A. 809

Borne important passages from the work of Fr. Spiegel,
Eranische Alterthumskunde, vol. ii (1873), pp. 91, etc. While
this work brings clearly into view the many and various in-
dications of ancestor-worship in the Zend-Avesta, it contains
highly significant evidence concerning the ideas of ghosts
{fravashis) and of ghost-mechanism throughout creation, which
were held by the Persian branch of the Aryans.

Nature of the Fravashi. — (p. 92.) " The fravashi is in the first
place a part ... of the human soul. In this sense the word is
used in the Avesta. . . . Later works of the Parsees give us
more exact information about the activity of the fravashi. The
frohar or fravashi — so it is stated in one of those works, the
Sadder Bundehesh — has the task of making useful what a man
eats, and removing the heavier parts. Accordingly, the fravashi
is the part intermediating between body and soul ; but it is con-
ceived as a person, independent in general, and particularly from
the body. The Sadder Bundehesh recognizes other psychic
powers besides : the vital power (Jdn)9 the conscience (akho),
the soul (revdn), the consciousness {box). [This recalls the
theory of the Egyptians, by whom also each man was supposed
to unite within himself four or five different entities. These
seemingly-strange beliefs are not difficult to account for. As
shown in §§ 56, 57, 94, 95, shadow, reflexion, breath, and heart
are all regarded as partially-independent components of the
individual, sometimes spoken of as separable during life, and as
going to different places after death.] Of these the vital power
is so intimately connected with the body that the latter perishes
as soon as the former has vanished. In a body thus doomed to
perish the other psychic powers cannot stay either : they leave
it; the conscience, because it has not done anything wrong,
makes straightway for heaven, while soul, consciousness, and
fravashi remaining together, have to answer for the deeds of
the man, and are rewarded or punished."

Fravashis of Gods and -Men. — (p. 94.) " Every living being
has a fravashi, not only in the terrestrial but in the spiritual
world. Not even Ahura-Mazda [the chief god] is excepted ; his
fravashi is frequently alluded to (Vd. 19, 46, Yt. 13, 80) as well
as the fravashis of the Amesha-cpentas and the other Yazatas
(Yc. 23, 3, Yt. 13, 82). Most frequently the fravashis of the
Paoiry6-tkaeshas are invoked, i.e., those of the pious men who
lived before the appearance of the law. To them, generally, the
fravashis of the nearest relations, and the fravashi of the person
himself, are added. ... It may appear surprising that the fra-
vashis of the ( born and unborn ' are invoked (Yc. 26, 20). The
clue may be found in Yt. 13, 17, where it is stated that the
fravashis of the pious who lived before the law, and of the beings
who will appear in future, are more powerful than those of other

810. APPENDIX A.

people, living or dead. Here worship of manes- and of heroes is
mixed up. Among these fravashis the ancestors of the particular
family, and of the particular clan or tribe, were worshipped."

Powers of the Fravashis. — (p. 95.) " The fravashis were not
deficient in power. Their chief task was the protection of living
beings. It is by their splendour and majesty that Ahura-Mazda
is enabled to protect the Ardvicura Anahita (Yt. 13, 4) [a certain
spring and a goddess], and the earth on which the water runs
and the trees grow. The fravashis protect, as well, the children
in the womb. . . . They are very important for the right distri-
bution of terrestrial benefits. It is by their assistance that
cattle and draught beasts can walk on the earth ; and but for
their help sun, moon, and star, as well as the water, would not
find their way, nor would the trees grow (Yt. 13, 53, etc.)."
(p. 95-6.) " Accordingly, the peasant will do well to secure the
assistance of these important deities. The same holds true for
the warrior; for the fravashis are helpers in battles, . . • Mithra,
Rashun, and the victorious wind are in their company. ... It
is of great importance that the fravashis remain in close connec-
tion with their families. They demand water for their clans,
each one for his kin, when it "is taken out of the Lake Vouru-
kasha ; . . . each of them fights on the spot where he has got
to defend a homestead, and kings and generals who want their
help against tormenting enemies, must specially call on them ;
they then come and render assistance, provided they have been
satisfied and not offended (Yt. 13, 69-72). The fravashis give
assistance not only as warriors ; they may be invoked against
any thing alarming, . % . against bad men and bad spirits.' . . •

Fravashis and Stars. — (p. 94.) We read in the Mind-khired:
" 'All the innumerable stars which are visible are called the
fravashis of the terrestrial ones [men ?] ; because for the whole
creation created by the creator Ormusd, for the born and the
unborn, a fravashi of the same essence is manifest.' Hence it
appears that the fravashis^ or the stars, form the host that . • •
fights against the demons." % . .

Worship of the Fravashis. — (p. 97.) " As in the case of other
genii of the Zoroastrian religion, much depends on the satisfac-
tory propitiation of the fravashis ; for their power, and conse-
quent activity, depends on the sacrifices. Probably they were
worshipped upon the 19th day of each month : their chief feasts,
however, were on the . • . intercalatory days added to the year
at its termination. About that time the fravashis descend to the
earth, and stay therefor 10 nights, expecting to be met with appro-
priate sacrifices of meat and clothes. (Yt 13, 49.) [Compare with
the German and Sclavonian superstitions.] . . . There cannot
be any doubt that the worship of the fravashis played an im-
portant part with the Iranians, though perhaps more in private

APPENDIX A* Sll

than in public. It would appear that there were two different
sorts of it. General, certainly, was the hero-worship — the
veneration of the Paoiryd-tkaeshas [pious men before the law].
With this, in some ages perhaps, the worship of fravashis of the
royal family was combined. The ancestor- worship, on the other
hand, was of a strictly private character."

Parallelisms. — (p. 98.) " The custom of honouring the
memory of ancestors by sacrifices would appear to have been
characteristic of the lndo-Germans from the very first. It is
for this reason that quite striking similarities are found in the
cult, which no doubt refer to very old times. ... It has been
justly pointed out that, as the fravashu are conceived as stars,
so, in the opinion of the ancient Hindoos, the blessed men beam
in form of stars (see Ju&ti, Handbuch, *.*., fravashi, p. 200). Nor
should it be overlooked that this star-worship is very like the
worship of the heavenly host mentioned in the Old Testament."

Here, then, concerning these ancient Aryans of Persia, we
have, on high authority, statements proving a dominant ancestor-
worship ; and also yielding support to various of the doctrines
set forth in Part I. While it is only one of several souls pos-
sessed by each individual, the fravashi is the predominant and
propitiated soul. It is supposed to need food, like the other-self
of the dead savage. Not ordinary men only, but deities, up to
the supreme one, have each his ghost ; implying that he was
originally a man. We see, too, that these fravashis which are
ancestral ghosts, become the agents to whom the powers of sur-
rounding objects are ascribed — fetich ghosts. We see that they
have peopled the heavens — have become the in-dwelling spirits
of sun, moon, and stars. And we see that worship of them,
beginning with worship of those of the family and the clan,
originates in time the worship of conspicuous traditional
persons, as ancient heroes and gods; just as among the Fijians
and others at the present day.

Aryan Ancestor-ieorshtp. — The more I have looked into the
evidence, the more I have marvelled at those who, in the inte-
rests of the mythological theory, assert that the Aryans have
been distinguished from inferior races by not being ancestor-
worshippers ; and who ascribe such ancestor- worship as cannot
be overlooked, to imitation of inferior races. If the American
fillibuster Ward, now apotheosized in China, has a temple erected
to him there, the fact is accepted as not unnatural among the
ancestor-worshipping Chinese. But in India, among Aryans,
we must ascribe to the bad example of lower peoples, the erection
of a temple at Benares to the English fillibuster Warren Hastings.
— (Pari Hist, xxvi, pp. 773-7.)

I find nothing but such unwarranted assumption to place

812 APPENDIX A.

against the clear evidence that ancestor-worship was dominant
among primitive Aryans, long remained dominant among civi-
lized Aryans, survived in considerable strength in mediaeval
Christendom, and has not yet died away. When we learn that
the Avesta describes sacrifices for the dead, and contains prayers
calling npon them — when we read in the Institutes of Menu
(Sir W. Jones's translation, vol. iii, p. 147) that "an oblation by
Brdhmens to their ancestors transcends an oblation to the deities;
because that to the deities is considered as the opening and com-
pletion of that to ancestors " — when, turning to the Aryans who
migrated West, we remember how active was their propitiation
of the dead, calling from Grote the words " sepulchral duties,
sacred beyond all others in the eyes of a Greek " — when we are
reminded how the early Romans, ascribing to their manes-gods
a love of human blood, duly administered to it ; our boldness of
assumption must be great if we can say that Aryan ancestor-
worship was not indigenous but adopted.

Were it true that necrolatry was not rooted in the primitive
Aryan mind, as in other primitive minds (a marvellous difference,
did it exist), it would be strange that though superficial it was
so difficult to extirpate. Christianity spread without extinguish-
ing it. In a capitulary of 742, Karloman prohibits " sacri6ces
to the dead" (Baluzius, i, 148). Nor has it been extinguished
by modern Christianity, as was shown in § 152. Here is further
evidence from Hanusch, Die Wwsenschaft des Slawischen My thus,
p. 408 :—

"According to Gebhardi . . . the Misnians, Lausitzians, Bohemians,
Silesians, and Poles, upon the first of March, early in the morning, went
forth with torches, going to the cemetery and offering up food to their ances-
tors. [According to Grimm] the Esthonians leave food for the dead in the
night of the second of November, and are glad if in the morning something
is found to he consumed. . . . With all Slaves it was a custom to have a
meal for the dead, not only upon the day of funeral but annually ; the formrr
was intended for the particular dead, the latter for the dead in general. . . .
At the latter they believed the souls to be present personally. Silently
little bits of food were thrown for them under the table. People believed
they heard them rustle, and saw them feed upon the smell and vapour of the
food."

1 may close with the conclusive testimony of one who has had
unusual opportunities of studying Aryan superstitions as now
being generated, and whose papers in the Fortnightly Reviev
show huw competent he is both as observer and reasoner — Sir A
C. Lyall. In a letter to me he says: — "I do not know who
may be the author of the statement which you quote [in § 1*50],
that * No Indo-European nation seems to have made a religion
of the worship of the dead ;' but it is a generalization entirely
untenable. Here in Rajputana, among the purest Aryan tribes,
the worship of famous ancestors is most prevalent; and all their
heroes are more or less deified."

APPENDIX A. 813

Ancestor-woreltip among the Greeks. — The foregoing evidence,
published in the first edition, I can now re-inforce. The already-
quoted essay A Sepulchral Belief from Tarentum, by Mr. Percy
Gardner, contains clear proofs, brought to light by recent in-
vestigations, that ancestor- worship was no less dominant among
the Greeks than among inferior peoples. The first two of the
following extracts, concerning Lycians and Etrurians, I prefix to
show that the Greeks had identical conceptions and usages : —

"Thus so far as Lycia is concerned there can be no doubt that as early as
the fourth century B.C. dead heroes were represented on their tombs as
receiving homage from the living." (pp. 14-15.)

" And that the feast here [on a sarcophagus] is a feast after death, is
shown by the analogy of the wall paintings of several of the large tombs of
Ktruria, in which the occupant of the tomb is seen eating, drinking, and
maling merry, as if he had but to continue in tho tomb the life which while
he was in the flesh he had found so pleasant." (p. 15.)

u These reliefs readily attach themselves to the more archaic class of
riparian monuments, and throw a fresh light on their character, so that after
seeing them Milchhoefer retracted his previously expressed opinion, and no
longer hesitated to believe that in all alike dead mortals held the post of
honour, and that all referred to the cultus of ancestors." (p. 18.)

" The worship of the dead did not occupy among the Slits of Greece the
same space in men's minds which at an earlier time it had held, and which
is still neld in the more conservative districts."

" Nevertheless, a careful search will disclose many passages even in the
Attic writers which illustrate this form of religion. The opening passage of
the Choephori, for example, tells of cultus kept up at the tombs of deceased
worthies. In the Alce*li*, the heroine of the play is scarcely dead before
she is invoked by the chorus as a spiritual power, able to give and to with-
hold favours." (p. 21.)

" At a lower level than that of poetry, in the laws and the customs, more
especially the burial-customs, of the Greeks, we find ample proof of the
tenacity with which they clung to the belief that the dead desired offerings
of food and incense, and were willing in return to furnish protection and
aid." (p. 22.)

" The dead man, living in his tomb as he had lived in his house, requires
frequent supplies of food and drink, rejoices in the presence of armour and
ornaments, such as he loved in life, and is very sensitive to discourteous
treatment. These ideas were part of the mental furniture of the whole
Aryan race, before it separated into branches, and are found in all the
countries over which it spread." (p. 22.)

" It is well known with what care the early Greeks provided in the chamber
in which they placed a corpse, all that was necessary for its comfort, I had
almost said its life. Wine and food of various kinds were there laid up in a
little store, a lamp was provided full of oil, frequently even kept burning to
relieve the darkness ; and around were strewn the clothes and the armour
in which the dead hero had delighted ; sometimes even, by a refinement of
realism, a whetstone to sharpen the edge of sword and spear in case they
should grow blunt with use. The horse of a warrior was sometimes slain
and buried with him that he might not in another world endure the indig-
nity of having to walk. Even in Homeric days the custom survived of
■laying at the tomb of a noted warrior some of a hostile race to be his slaves
thereafter." (p. 23.)

" If a body was left unburied, or if the tomb in which it was laid was not

|8 L4 .APPENDIX A*

from time to time supplied with food and drink, then the ghost inhabiting
such body became a wretched wanderer on the face of the earth, and neither
Lad peace itself nor allowed survivors to be at peace." (p. 24.)

" The lectisternia of the Romans, in which they spread feasts for certain
of the gods, and laid their im»gee by the tables that they might enjoy what
was provided are well known, and most people fancy that the custom was of
Latin origin, but it is certain that the Romans in this matter were mere
imitators of the Greeks. We should naturally suppose that the custom of
feasting the gods arose from that of feasting deceased ancestors. And this
view receives fresh confirmation when we consider that these banquets were,
among the Greeks, bestowed not upon all the gods, but nearly always on
those of mortal birth, such as the Dioscuri, Asolepius and Dionysus. The/
are bestowed indeed upon Zeus and Apollo, and this may seem strange, unless
we remember how commonly Zeus Patroius or Herceius, and Apollo were eon-
fused in cultus with the traditional family ancestor." (pp. 32-33.)

Origin of Egyptian Gods. — Amid incongruities, the general
meaning of the passages which follow is sufficiently elear.
Brng8ch writes : —

" In . . . the primeval history of their land " the Egyptians " supposed
three ages which followed one another, till Mena placed the double crown
upon his head. During the first age, a dynasty of the Gods reigned in the
land ; this was followed by the age of the Demi-gods, and the dynasty of the
mysterious Manes closed the prehistoric time. ... It is to be regretted
that the fragments of the Turin papyrus (once containing the most complete
list of the kings of Egypt in their cnronological order) have preserved not
the slightest intelligible information about those fabulous successors of the
God-Kings. A single shred allows us to make out with tolerable certainty
the names of sacred animals, such as the Apis of Memphis and the Mneviiof
Heliopolis, so that it would appear as if these also had contributed to the
number of the prehistoric rulers of Egypt." (History of Egypt, i, 33, 39.)

The continuity of the series from these early divine personages,
some of them figured as animals and half -animals, down to gods
who were unquestionably deified men, is implied by the fact that
to the worship of those earliest rulers whose vague personalities,
surviving from remote times, had become gods proper, there
was joined a worship of early historic kings, which, similar in
nature, similarly lasted through many ages. Here is a passage
from Maspero's Uve Enquete Judiciaire a Thebes (Mem. de
YAcademie des Inscriptions, t. viii), pp. 62—3 : —

" A Memphis on trouve, jusque sous les Ptolemees, des pretres de Menes
d'Ata, de Sahara et d'autres pharaons appartenant aux plus an nennes dynas-
ties (De Rouge, Mtude sur les monuments guon pent attribuer aux six
premieres dynasties de Mandthon, pp. 31, 63, 83) ; a Thebes, le culte des
Usortesen, des Ahmes, des Auienophis (voir au Papyrus Abbott, pi. i, 1. 13,
la mention d'un pretre d' Amlnophis), ou de certaities reines couime la reins
Nefer-t-ari (Lieblein, Deux papyrus, etc., p. 31, pi. iii. 1. 6 ; Sharpe, Eg.
Inso. ti), fut florissant pendant des siecles. Si nous nesaisisjons pas ches
les particuliers les indices d'uno veneration aussi vivace, e'est que, dans les
tombes prives, les ceremonies 6taient accomplies non par dee pretres speciaux,
mais par Irs fils ou les descendants du def unt. Souvent, au bout de i|ueiqucs
generations, soit negligence, soit displacement, ruine, ou extinction de la
Jamille, le culte Itait suspeudu et la memoire des morts se perdait."

APPENDIX A. $15

IV) which passage, showing that the permanent worship of the
dead kings was a more developed form of the ordinary ancestor-
worship, I may add a confirmatory passage from E. de Rouge* : —

u Each pyramid had by its side a funeral building, a sort of temple, where
were performed the ceremonies of a cult dedicated to the deified sovereigns.
I have no doubt that this cult commenced during their lifetime.*'— M4m. de
TAe. dee Inter., pt. xxt, 2, p. 264.)

And yet in face of such evidence, harmonizing with all the
other evidences we have fonnd, it is alleged that the early
Egyptian gods were personalized powers of nature !

u Gods and men n in Hebrew Legend. — Further grounds for
taking the view expressed in § 200, respecting the " gods and
men " of the Hebrew legend, have since been disclosed in the
Chaldean Account of Genesis, by George Smith. Here is a
passage from the new edition edited by Prof. Sayce, published
in 1880 :—

" One of the most curious statements made in these hymns is that the race
of men created by the deity was black-headed. The same race of men is
mentioned elsewhere in the ancient literature of the Accadians. ... In the
bilingual tablets the black race is rendered in Assyrian by the word Adamatu
or 'red-skins.' A popular etymology connected this word Adamatu with
the word Adamu, or Admu, ' man,' partly on account of the similarity of
sound, partly because in the age of Accadian supremacy and literature, the
men par excellence, the special human beings made by the Creator, were the
dark-skinned race of Accad. The Accadian Adam or ( man ' was dark ; it
was only when the culture of the Accadians had been handed down to their
Semitic successors that he became fair. The discovery that the Biblical
Adam is identical with the Assyri in Adamu or ' man/ and that the Assyrian
Adamu goes back to the first created man of Accadian tradition who belonged
to the black, that is, to the Accadian race, is due to Sir Henry Rawlinson.
He has also suggested that the contrast between the black and the white
races, between the Accadian and the Semite, is indicated in the sixth chapter
of Genesis, where a contrast is drawn between the daughters of men or
Adamu, and the sons of God." (pp. 81-83.)

Verification is also hereby afforded of the suggestion made in
§ 178 (note), that the forbidden fruit was the inspiriting and
illuminating product of a plant which the conquering race
forbade the subject race to consume. The objection, not un-
likely to be raised, that the words " fruit " and " eating " do
not countenance this interpretation, would be sufficiently met
by cases of oar own metaphorical uses of these words ("fruit
of the womb," "opium-eating"); but it may be met more
directly. Of the Zulus, Bp. Callaway says — " The natives
speak of beer as food — and of eating it They also call snuff
food, and speak of eating it."

Theology of tlie Accadians. — The distinguished Assyriologist,
Prof. A. H. Sayce, in his article on " Babylonia " in the new

816 APPENDIX A.

edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica (iii, 192-3), writes as
follow* : —

"The earliest religion of Acad was a Shamanism resembling that of the
Siberian or Samoyed tribes of to-day. Every object bad i*s spirit, good or
bad ; and the power of controlling these spirits was in the hands of priests and
toroereis. The world swarmed with them, especially with the demons, and
there * as scarcely an action which did not risk demoniac possession. Diseases
were regarded as caused in this way. ... In course of time certain spirits
(or rather deified powers of Nature) were elevated above the rest into the
position of gods. . • . The old Shamanism gradually became transformed
into a religion, with a host of subordinate semi-divine beings ; but so strong a
hold had it upon the mind, that the new gods were still addressed by their
spirits. The religion now entered upon a new phase ; the various epithets
applied to the ssme deity were crystallized into fresh divinities, and the sun*
god under a multitude of forms became the central object of worship."

This account of Accadian beliefs harmonizes with the numerous
foregoing facts illustrating the genesis of religion from the ghost-
theory. The first stage above described is one in which spirits,
originally human, have become identified with, or inhabitants of,
surrounding objects, as we saw they everywhere tend to do.
Just as among the Esquimaux and others, Sun and Moon thus
come to be residences of particular ghosts, so with the Accadiam
Prof. Sayce has just pointed out to me (June, 1885) that he had
in 1874 expressed the belief that "the worship of dead ancestors"
is the primitive form of religion.

As given by M. Lenormant, in his La Magie chez Us Chaldeens,
the following is part of an incantation against pestilence : —

" De la fievre, esprit du ciel, souviens-t'en ! Esprit de la terre, souviens-
t'en! . . . Esprit* males et femelles, seigneurs des etoiles, souvenes-vous
en ! . . . Esprit e males et femelles de la montagne sublime, souvenez-vous
en! Esprits miles et femelles de la lumiere de vie, souvenes-vous
en ! . . . Esprits femelles du pere et de la mere de Moul-ge [the Assyrian

god Bel] souvenez-vouz en ! . . . Etprit de la Deesse-onde, mere de Ea,

souviens-t'en ! Esprit de Ninouah, fille de Ea (Nouah), souviens-t'en! . . •
Esprit du dieu Feu, pontife supreme sur la surUkOd de la terre,
souviens-t'en ! " (p. 128.)

Here, then, the address is uniformly made to ghosts; and
these are the ghosts of beings allied by name to traditional
human beings — the ghosts of beings who have come to be called
gods and goddesses : ghosts regarded as lords and spirits of
stars, mountains, fire. And this too, as we saw above, was the
creed of the Iranians. The fravashis were the ghosts or spirits
possessed alike by men and by gods — even by the chief god.

Moreover, little as the fact is recognized, the Hebrew god is
habitually spoken of in a parallel way and with the same
implication. "The Spirit of the Lord" is a consistent expres-
sion if, as in the Accadian belief, and in the beliefs of existing1
Bedouins, the original conception of a god was that of a puiveiful

APPENDIX A. 817

terrestrial ruler— a ruler such as the one hospitably entertained
by Abraham, with whom he covenanted to yield allegiance in
return for territory. Bnt the expression " Spirit of the Lord,"
reasonably applied to the donble of a potentate after his death,
is nonsense if otherwise applied ; since, as every critical reader
must have observed, if the Lord' was originally conceived
as a Spirit, then the Spirit of the Lord most have been conceived
as the spirit of a spirit. Snch an expression as that in Isaiah
xlviii, 16, " the Lord God, and His Spirit, hath sent me," which
is reconcilable with the primitive idea that evevy human being,
whether king or subject, includes at least two individualities, is
irreconcilable with the current theology; for the word spirit,
whether interpreted in the sense accepted alike by savage and
civilized, or whether referred back to its derivation as meaning
breath (which it does in Hebrew as in various other languages),
inevitably connotes a body of which it is the spirit.

Thus all three of the widely unlike types of men inhabiting
these eastern regions — the so-called Turanians, the Aryans, and
the Semites — had the same theory of supernatural beings.
However otherwise different, deities, like men, were conceived
by them as having doubles. The notion is perfectly congruous
with the conclusion everywhere else forced upon us, that deities
are the expanded ghosts of dead man, and is utterly incongruous
with any other theory.

It was pointed out in § 202 that in various essential respects
the Hebrew conception of god was at one with all other concep-
tions of gods ; and here we see this unity implied even in the
descriptive phrases used by the Hebrews in speaking of their
god*

Not*,— I am indebted to the Bishop of Gloucester, and more recently to
Prof. St. George Mirart, for pointing out that the statement on page 783,
concerning the sacrifice of lambs to St. Agnes at Borne is incorrect. It
appears that the lambs are not actually sacrificed, but only offered. We may
regard the usage, therefore, as a form substituted for what was once a reality.

8 O

APPENDIX B.

fHB MYTHOLOGICAL THEORY.

[Though in the text, while setting forth thai negative criHcim
on the mythological theory which is constituted by an opposed
theory, I have incidentally made some positive criticisms, I have
preferred not to encumber the argument with many of these; nor
can I here afford space for a lengthened exposition of reasons jar
rejecting the mythological theory. What follow must be regarded
as merely the heads of an argument^ the elaboration of which must
be left to the reader.'}

An inquiry carried on in a way properly called scientific
may, according to the nature of the case, proceed either induc-
tively or deductively. Without making any assumptions, tho
inquirer may, and in some cases must, begin by collecting
together numerous cases ; and then, after testing by the method
of difference the result yielded by the method of agreement, cr
subjecting it to others of the tests needful to exclude error, Le
may, if it withstands all such tests, accept the induction as
true. Or, otherwise, if there exists a pre-established induction,
or an a priori truth (which is an induction organically
registered), he may set out from this, and deduce his con-
clusion from it.

In his Introduction to the Science of Religion, Professor Max
Muller does not adopt either of these methods. As given on
page 143 (new edition of 1882), his theory is that, in the case
of other races as in the case of the Turanian race there dealt
with, men's religious ideas arise thus : — " First, a worship of
heaven, as the emblem of the most exalted conception which
the untutored mind of man can entertain," expanding to . . •
" a belief in that which is infinite. Secondly, a belief in death-
less spirits or powers of nature; . . . Lastly, a belief in tho
existence of ancestral spirits." To give anything like a scien-
tific character to this theory, he ought to do at least one of
two things. Either he should cite a number of oases in
which among men whose state is the rudest known, there
exists this heaven- worship and resulting conception of the
infinite, or else he should prove that his theory is a necessary
deduction from admitted laws of the human mind. Ho does

APPENDIX B. 819

not fulfil either of these requirements, or even attempt to
fulfil either. Not simply does he fail to give such numerous
cases of Nature-worship existing without any other kind of
worship, as would serve for the basis of an induction, but I am
not aware that he has given a single case : the reason being,
I believe, that no cases are to be found ; for my own inquiries,
which are tolerably extensive, have not brought one to my
knowledge. On the other hand, so far from being able to
deduce his conclusion from laws of mind, he is obliged do*
liberately to ignore laws of mind which are well established.
If, as he alleges, men began with worshipping heaven as sym-
bolizing the infinite, afterwards worshipping the powers of
Nature as personalized, and finally ancestral spirits, thin
the progress of thought is from the abstract to the concrete :
the course implied is the reverse of that known to be
followed.

'While it cannot, I think, be admitted that what is called by
Professor Max M tiller the Science of Religion has any claim
whatever to the name science^ we find evidence that his conclu-
sion was from the outset a foregone conclusion, and one certainly
not belonging to the class distinguished as scientific* Here aid
two extracts which throw light on the matter : —

* The element! and roots of religion were there, as far back as we can trace
the history of man. . . . An intuition of God, a sense of human weakni es
and dependence, a belief in a Dmne government of the world, a distinction
between good and evil, and a hope of a better life, these are some of tie
radical elements of all religions. Though sometimes hidden, they rise again
and again to the surface. . . . Unless they had formed part of the origin:'. I
dowry of the human soul, religion itself would have been an impossibility."
Chips, etc., vol. i, pref. x.

The other extract is from the closing paragraph of the preface

written by Professor Max Miiller to the Mytfis and Songs from

the South Pacific. Speaking of that work, he says —

" But it contains much that . . . will comfort those who hold that Go I
has not left Himself without a witness, even among the lowest outcasts of
the human race."

Noting how the theological here hides the scientific, I may add
that anyone who reads Mr. Gill's volume and contemplates the
many verifications it contains of the inference otherwise so
amply supported, that ancestor-worship is the root of all
religions, will be surprised to see how readily a foregone con*
elusion can find for itself support in a mass of evidence which
to other readers will seem fatal to it.

But now leaving this general criticism, let us examine
deliberately and in detail the hypothesis of Professor Max
Muller, and that mythological theory associated with it,

1. A more special science cannot be fully understood until

3 G 2

820 APPENDIX B.

the more general science including it is understood ; and it is
a corollary that conclusions drawn from the more special cannot
be depended on in the absence of conclusions drawn from the
more general. Philological proofs are therefore untrustworthy
unless supported by psychological proofs. Not to study the
phenomena of mind by immediate observation, but to study
them immediately through the phenomena of language, is
necessarily to introduce additional sources of error. La the
interpretation of evolving thoughts, there are liabilities to
mistake. In the interpretation of evolving words and verbal
forms, there are other liabilities to mistake. And to contemplate
the mental development through the linguistic development, is
to encounter a double set of risks. Though evidence derived
from the growth of words is useful as collateral evidence, it is
of little use by itself; and cannot compare in validity with
evidence derived from the growth of ideas. Hence the method
of the mythologists, who argue from the phenomena which the
symbols present, instead of arguing from the phenomena
symbolized, is a misleading method.

One illustration will suffice. In a lecture delivered at the
Royal Institution, on March 31st, 1871, Prof. Max Miiller said —
" The Zulus call the soul the shadow, and such is the mfluence of
lanyuage that, even against the evidence of the senses, the
Zulus believe that a dead body can oast no shadow, because the
shadow — or, as we should say, the ghost — has departed from it/'
(Times, 1 Ap., 1871.) Here the explanation is regarded as
entirely linguistic. The course of thought which, among so many
races, has led to identification of soul and shadow, and which has
for its corollary the departure of the soul or shadow at death, is
ignored. Those who have digested the abundant evidence given
in the text, will see how profound is the misconception caused.

<

2. In another way — allied though different — does the method
of the mythologists reverse the right method. They set oat
with the ideas and feelings possessed by the civilized. Carrying
these with them they study the ideas and feelings of the semi-
civilized. And thence they descend by inference to the ideas
and feelings of the uncivilized. Beginning with the complex
they get from it the factors of the simple. How great are the
errors to be anticipated, an analogy will show. So long as
biologists gathered their cardinal conceptions from much-
developed organisms their interpretations were quite wrong;
and they were set right only when they began to study little-
developed organisms — the lower types and the embryos of the
higher types. That the teeth, though rooted in the jaws, do
not belong to the skeleton, but are dermal structures, is a troth
wuich no anatomist, dealing with adult mammals only, would

i^m^rp 'w i '■■ .Ljji.

appendix a 821

ever bare imagined ; and this truth is but one ont of many dis-
closed by examining animals in the order of ascending evolution.
Similarly with social phenomena, including the systems of
belief men hare formed. The order of ascending evolution most
be followed here too* The key to these systems of belief can be
found only in the ideas of the lowest races.

3. The distortion caused by tracing the genesis of beliefs from
above downwards, instead of tracing it from below upwards, is
•exemplified in the postulate of Prof .Max Miiller, that there was
at first a higb conception of deity which mythology corrupted.
He says (bci. of Lan., ii, 407) that " the more we go back,
the more we examine the earliest germs of every religion, the
purer, I believe, we shall find the conceptions of the Deity."
ftow, unless we assume that Prof. Max Muller is unacquainted
with such facts as are brought together in Part I, we shall here
recognise a perversion of thought caused by looking at them in
the wrong order. We shall be the more obliged to recognize
this, on remembering that his linguistic researches furnish him
with abundant proofs that men in low stages have no terms
capable of expressing the idea of a Universal Power ; and can,
therefore, according to his own doctrine, have no such idea.
Lacking words even for low generalities and abstractions, it is
utterly impossible that the savage should have words in which
to frame, a conception uniting high generality with high
abstractness. Holding so unwarranted a postulate, it is very
improbable that Prof. Max Muller's mythological interpreta-
tions, harmonised as we must suppose with this postulate, can
be true.

4. The law of rhythm in its social applications, implies that
alternations of opinion will be violent in proportion as opinions
are extreme. Politics, Religion, Morals, all furnish examples.
After an unqualified acceptance of the Christian creed, those
who inquired passed to unqualified rejection of it as an invention
of priests : both courses being wrong. Similarly, after belief in
classic legends as entirely true, there comes repudiation of them
as entirely false: now prized as historic fact, they are now
thrown aside as nothing but fiction. Both of these judgments
are likely to prove erroneous. Being sure that the momentum
of reaction will carry opinion too .far, we may conclude that
these legends are neither wholly true nor wholly untrue.

5. The assumption that any decided division can be made
between legend and history is untenable. To suppose that at a
certain stage we pass suddenly from the mythical to the historical,
is absurd* Progress, growing arts, increasing knowledge, more

822 APPENDIX B.

settled life, imply a gradual transition from traditions containing
little fact and much fancy, to traditions containing little fancy
and much fact. There can be no break. Hence any theory
which deals with traditions as though, before the time when
they are classed as historic, they are entirely nnhistoric, is in-
evitably wrong. It must be assumed that the earlier the story
the smaller the historic nucleus ; bat that some historic nucleus
habitually exists. Mycologists ignore this implication.

6. If we look at the ignoring of this implication under another
aspect, we shall be still move startled by it. A growing society
coming at length to recorded events, must have passed through
a long series of unrecorded events. The more striking of such
will be transmitted orally. That is to say, every early nation
which has a written history, had, before that, an unwritten
history ; the most remarkable parts of which survived in tradi-
tions more or less distorted. If, now, the alleged doings of
heroes, demi-gods, and deities, which precede definite history,
are recognized as these distorted traditions, the requirement is
satisfied. If, otherwise, these are rejected as myths, then there
comes the question — Where are the distorted traditions of
actual events ? Any hypothesis which does not furnish a satis-
factory answer to this question is out of court.

7. The nature of pre-historio legends suggests a further ob-
jection. In the lives of savages and barbarians the chief occur-
rences are wars. Hence the trait common to mythologies—
Indian, Greek, Babylonian, Tibetan, Mexican, Polynesian, etc.
— that the early deeds narrated, even including the events of
creation, take the form of fightings, harmonizes with the
hypothesis that they are expanded and idealized stories of
ha man transactions. But this trait is not congruous with the
hypothesis that they are fictions devised to explain the genesis
and order of Nature. Though the mythologist imagines the
phenomena to be thus naturally formulated ; there is no evidence
that they tend thns to formulate themselves in the undeveloped
mind. To see this, it needs but to ask whether an untaught
child, looking at the surrounding world and its changes, would
think of them as the products of battles.

8. The study of superstitions by descending analysis instead
of by ascending synthesis, misleads in another way. It suggests
causes of Nature-worship which do not exist. The undeveloped
mind has neither the emotional tendencies nor the intellectual
tendencies which mythologists assume.

Note, first, that the feelings out of which worship really
grows, as shown in Part I, are displayed by all forms of the

appendix n, 823

undeveloped mind — by the mind of the savage, by the mind of
the civilized child, by the mind of the civilized adult in its
uncultured state. Dread of ghosts is common to them all. The
horror a child feels when alone in the dark, and the fear with
which a rustic passes through a churchyard by night, show us
the still-continued sentiment which we have found to be the
essential element of primitive religions. If, then, this senti-
ment excited by supposed invisible beings, which prompts the
savage to worship, is a sentiment conspicuous in the young and
in the ignorant among ourselves; we may infer that if the
savage has an allied sentiment directed towards powers of
nature and prompting worship, this, also, while manifest in him,
must be similarly manifest in our own young and ignorant.

So, too, with the thought-element which mythologists ascribe
to the savage. The speculative tendency which they suppose
causes primitive interpretations of Nature, is a tendency which
he should habitually display, and which the least developed of
the civilized should also display. Observe the facts under both
these heads.

9. The familiar Sun excites in the child no awe whatever
Recalling his boyhood, no one can recall any feeling of fear
drawn out by this most striking object in Nature, or any sign
of such feeling in his companions. Again, what peasant or
what servant-girl betrays the slightest reverence for the Sun P
Gazed at occasionally, admired perhaps when setting, it is
regarded without even a tinge of the sentiment called worship.
Such allied sentiment as arises (and it is but an allied sentiment)
arises only in the minds of the cultured, to whom science has
revealed the vastness of the Universe or in whom the perception
of beauty has become strong. Similarly with other familiar
things. A labourer has not even respect for the Earth he digs ;
still less any such emotion as might lead him to treat it as a
deity. It is true that the child may be awed by a thunderstorm
and that the ignorant may look with superstitious terror at a
comet ; but these are not usual and orderly occurrences. Daily
experiences prove that surrounding objects and powers, how-
ever vast, excite no religious emotion in undeveloped minds, if
they are common and not supposed to be dangerous.

And this, which analogy suggests as the state of the savage
mind, is the state which travellers describe. The lowest types
of men are devoid of wonder. As shown in § 45, they do not
marvel even at remarkable things they never saw before, so
long as there is nothing alarming about them. And if their
surprise is not aroused by these unfamiliar things, still less is it
aroused by the things witnessed daily from birth upwards.
What is more marvellous than flamo r— comiug no one sees

821 appendix a

whence, s>6ving9 making sounds, intangible and yet hurting the
hands, devouring things and then vanishing. Yet the lowest
races are not characterised by fire- worship.

Direct and indirect evidence thus unite to show us that in
the primitive man there does not exist that sentiment which
Nature- worship presupposes. And long before mental evolution
initiates it, the Earth and the Heavens have been peopled by
the supernatural beings, derived from ghosts, which really
draw oat his hopes and fears, and prompt his offerings and
prayers.

10. Similarly with the implied thought-element. The ignorant
among ourselves are unspeculative. They show scarcely any
rational curiosity respecting even the most imposing natural
phenomena. What rustic asks a question as to the constitution
of the Sun? When does he think about the cause of the
Moon's changes P What sign does he give of a wish to know
how clouds are formed ? Where is the evidence that his mind
ever entertained a thought concerning the origin of the winds ?
Not only is there an absence of any tendency to inquire, but
there is utter indifference when explanation is offered. He
accepts these oommon-place things as matters of course, which
it does not concern him to account for.

It is thus, also, with the savage. Even in the absence of
proof it would be inferable that if the great mass of minds in
our own race are thus unspeculative, the minds of inferior races
must be still more unspeculative. But, as was shown in § 46,
we have direct proof. Absence of rational curiosity is habitually
remarked by travellers amongst the lowest races. That which
Dr. Rink says of the Esquimaux, that " existence in general is
accepted as a fact, without any speculation as to its primitive
origin " (p. 36), is said by others in kindred ways of various rude
peoples. Nay, savages even ridicule as foolish, questions about
the ordinary course of Nature ; no matter how conspicuous the
changes displayed.

Thus the intellectual factor, too, implied by the alleged
mythopoeio tendency, is wanting in early stages ; and advancing
intelligence does not begin to manifest it until long after th*
ghost-theory has originated a mechanism of causation.

11. Joined with these two erroneous assumptions is the
assumption, also erroneous, that the primitive man is given to
"imaginative fictions." Here is another mistake caused by
ascribing to undeveloped natures, the traits which developed
natures exhibit. As shown in § 47, the savage conspicuously
lacks imagination; and fiction, implying imagination, arises
only as civilization progresses. The man of low type no more

■i -!■— pg*p^»ra— mm^mm — ijih ■■ y^i— w

APPENDIX B. 625

invents stories than he invents tools or processes ; bnt in the
one case, as in the other, the products of his activity evolve by
small modifications. Among inferior races the only germ of
literature is the narrative of events* The savage tells the
occurrences of to-day's chase, the feats of the fight that happened
yesterday, the successes of his father who lately died, the
triumphs of his tribe in a past generation. Without the
slightest idea of making marvellous stories, he makes them
unawares. Having only rude speech fall of metaphor ; being
prompted by vanity and nnohecked by regard for truth ;
immeasurably credulous himself and listened to by his descen-
dants with absolute faith ; his narratives soon become mon-
strously exaggerated, and in course of generations diverge so
widely from possibility, that to us they seem mere freaks of
fancy.

On studying facts instead of trusting to hypotheses we see
this to be the origin of primitive legends. Looked at apart
from preconceptions, the evidence (see Descriptive Sociology,
" -rfEsthetio Products ") shows that there is originally no myth-
opceio tendency ; but that the so-called myth begins with a story
of human adventure. Hence this assumed factor is also wanting.

12. One more supposition is made for which there is, in like
manner, no warrant. The argument of the mythologists proceeds
on the assumption that early peoples were inevitably betrayed
into personalizing abstract nouns. Having originally had
certain verbal symbols for abstractions ; and having, by impli-
cation, had a corresponding power of abstract thinking ; it is
alleged that the barbarian thereupon began to deprive these
verbal symbols of their abstractness. This remarkable process
is one of which clear proof might have been expected; but none
is forthcoming. We have indeed, in his Chips, etc. (voL ii, p. 55),
the assertion of Prof. Max Miiller that "as long as people
thought in language, it was simply impossible to speak of
morning or evening, of spring and winter, without giving to
these conceptions something of an individual, active, sexual,
and at last personal character;" (i.e., having, somehow,
originally got them without concrete meanings, it was impos-
sible to avoid making their meanings concrete) ; but to establish
the alleged impossibility something more than authoritative
statement is needed. And considering that the validity of the
entire theory depends on the truth of this proposition, one
might have looked for an elaborate demonstration of it*
Surely the speech of the uncivilized should furnish abundant
materials.

Instead, I find put in evidence certain personalisations of ab-
stracts made by ourselves. Prof. Max Miiller quotes passages

826 afpbndix a

in which Wordsworth speaks of Religion as a M mother/' of
" father Time," of * Frost's inexorable tooth," of " Winter like
a traveller old," of " laughing hours." But in the first place it
is to be remarked that these, where not directly traceable to
the personages of classic mythology, have obviously arisen by
conscious or unconscious imitation of classic modes of expres-
sion, to which our poets have been habituated from boyhood.
And then, in the second place, we find no trace of a tendency
for this fanciful personalization to generate beliefs in actual
personalities ; and unless such a tendency is proved, nothing is
proved.

13. Sanskrit is, indeed, said to yield evidence of this per-
sonalization. But the evidence, instead of being direct, is re-
motely inferential; and the inferences are drawn from ma-
terials arbitrarily selected.

How little confidence can be placed in the mode of dealing
with the language of the Yedas, may be inferred from the
mode of dealing with the Yedic statements. Appeal is pro-
fessedly made to the ideas of highest antiquity, as being, ac-
cording to theory, freest from mythopoaic corruptions. But
only such of these ideas as suit the hypothesis are taken ; and
ideas of as high, and indeed of higher, antiquity, which con-
flict with it are ignored. Of numerous cases, here is one.
Soma-worship being common to the Big-Veda and the Zend-
Avesta, is thereby proved to have existed before the diffusion
of the Aryans. Further, as before shown (§ 178), the Rig- Veda
itself calls Soma " the creator and father of the gods," " the
generator of hymns, of Dyaus, of Prithivl, of Agni, of Surya,
of Indra, and of Vishnu." According to this highest authority,
then, these so-called Nature-gods were not the earliest. They
were preceded by Soma, " king of gods and men," who " con-
fers immortality on gods and men : the alleged sun-god, Indra,
being named as performing his great deeds under the inspira-
tion of Soma. Hence if antiquity of idea, as proved both by
the direct statements of the Big- Veda itself, and by community
of belief with the Zend-Avesta, is to be taken as the test, it is
cle&r that Nature- worship was not primordial among the Aryans.

If we look more closely at the data taken from this " book
with seven seals " (which is Prof. Max Muller's name for the
book from which, strangely enough, he draws such positive
conclusions) and observe how they are dealt with, we do not
find ourselves reassured. The word dyaus, which is a cardinal
word in the mythological theory, is said to be derived from the
root dyu, to beam. In his Science of Language, vol. ii, p. 469,
Prof. Max Miiller says of it — " A root of this rich and expan-
sive meauing would be applicable to many conceptions : the

APPENDIX ft 827

dawn, the son, the sky, the day, the stars, the eyes, the ocean,
and the meadow." May we not add that a root so variously
applicable, vague in proportion to the multiplicity of its
meanings, lends itself to interpretations that are proportion-
ately uncertain P The like holds throughout. One of the per-
sonalised Vedio gods, inferred to have been originally a Nature-
god, is the Earth. We are told that there are twenty-one
Vedio names for the Earth. We learn that these names were
applicable to various other things; and that consequently
"earth, river, sky, dawn, cow, and speech, would become
homonyms " (Chips, ii, 72). On which statements our comment
may be, that as homonymous words are, by their definition,
equivocal or ambiguous, translations of them in particular cases
must be correspondingly questionable. No doubt roots that are
so " rich," allow ample play to imagination, and greatly facilitate
the reaching of desired results. But by as much as they afford
scope for possible inferences, by so much do they diminish the
probability of any one inference.*

Nor is this all. The interpretation thus made by arbitrary
manipulation of ill-understood materials, is made in pursuance
of what seems a self-contradicting doctrine. On the one hand,
primitive Aryans are described as having had a speech formed
from roots, in such manner that the abstract idea of protecting
preceded the concrete idea of a father. On the other hand, of
ancient Aryans coming after these primitive Aryans, we are
told that they "could only speak and think'9 (ibid., 63) in
personal figures : of necessity they spoke, not of sunset, but of
the " sun growing old " — not of sunrise, but of " Night giving
birth to a brilliant child" — not of Spring, but of "the Sun or
the Sky embracing the earth" (ibid., 64). So that the race
who made their concretes out of abstracts, are described as led
into these Nature-myths by their inability to express abstracts
except in terms of concretes I

• How doubtful must be these interpretations may be judged from the*
following synonyms and homonyms for the. Sun, taken from the Sanskrit
Dictionary of Mr. Monier Williams. Sura — a god, divinity, deity, a symbo-
lical expression for the number 88 ; a sage, learned man, the sun. S&ra — the
sun ; the Soma ; a wise or learned man, teacher : a hero, king. Sura — a hero,
warrior, champion, Taliant man, great or mighty man ; a Bon, a boar ; the
Bun, N. pr. of certain plants and trees. Saviiri—& generator ; sun ; epithet
of Indra and Sira ; a particular plant. Arka — a ray, flash of lightning, sun,
Hie, crystal, copper, ff. of Indra and of a plant ; membrum virile, hymn,
singer, learned man, elder brother, food. Aryaman — a bosom friend, play-
fellow, N. pr., sun, Ascleptas plant. Vivasvat — N. pr. of the Sun, Aruna, and
others. Sirikara — N. pr., a crow, the sunflower, sun. And there are sereral
others. Though these are from a general Sanskrit Dictionary, and not from
a Dictionary of Vedic Sanskrit, yet it must be admitted that the Vedio
Sanskrit is as rogue or Taguer, unless it be affirmed that languages become
less speciflo as they develop.

828 APPEHDIX B.

May we not say, then, thai the doctrine of the personalization
of abstracts, unsupported by evidence which existing races
furnish, is not made probable by ancient evidence P

14. We need not, however, leave off simply with the conclu-
sion that the hypothesis is unsustainecL There is a definite
test, which, I think, completely disproves it.

As part of the reason why abstract nouns and collective
nouns became personalized, Prof. Max Muller says : — " Now in
ancient languages every one of these words had necessarily a
termination expressive of gender, and this naturally produced
in the mind the corresponding idea of sex" (Chips, ii, 55).
Here the implication is that the use of a name carrying
with it the idea of sex in the thing named, therefore
carried with it the idea of something living; since living
things alone possess the differences expressed by gender.
Observe, now, the converse proposition necessarily going
with this. It is implied that if an abstract noun has no
termination indicating a masculine or feminine nature, any
liability there may be to give more concreteness to its
meaning, will not be joined with a liability to ascribe sex to
it. There will be no tendency to personalize it accompanying
the tendency to make it concrete ; but it will become a neuter
concrete. Unquestionably if a termination implying sex, and
therefore implying life, therefore implies personality ; where
there is no termination implying sex, no implication that there
is life and personality will arise. It follows, then, that peoples
whose words have no genders will not personalize the powers
of Nature. But the facts directly contradict this inference.
" There are no terminations denoting gender in Quichua "
(Markham, p. 23), the language of the ancient Peruvians ; and
yet the ancient Peruvians had personalized natural objects and
powers — Mountains, Sun, Moon, the Earth, the Sea, etc ; and
the like absence of genders and presence of Nature- worship,
occurred among the Chibchas, and among the Central Ameri-
cans. Thus personalization of the great inanimate objects and
agents, can have had no such linguistic cause as that alleged.

15. The many reasons for rejecting the interpretations which
mythologists offer us, thus fall into several groups.

Some of them are a priori. The method adopted is doubly
wrong — wrong as seeking in the characters of words, explana-
tions which should be sought in the mental phenomena symbol-
ized by those words ;* and wrong as seeking in developed
thoughts and feelings the keys to undeveloped ones, instead of
the converse. The assumption, associated with this method,
that the human mind had originally a conception of deity such

-«T»»*

APPENDIX B. 829

as we now call pure, ia directly contradicted by the evidence
which the uncivilized present ; and suicidally implies that there
were abstract thoughts before there was even au approach to
words abstract enough to convey them.

A second group of a priori reasons is otherwise derived. The
mythological theory tacitly assumes that some clear division
can be made between legend and history ; instead of recognizing
the truth that in the narratives of events there is a slowly
increasing ratio of truth to error. Ignoring the necessary im-
plication that before definite history, numerous partially- true
stories must be current, it recognizes no long series of distorted
traditions of actual events. And then, instead of seeing in the
fact that all the leading so-called myths describe combats,
evidence that they arose out of human transactions, my thologists
assume that the order of Nature presents itself to the un-
developed mind in terms of victories and defeats.

Of a foderiori reasons for rejecting the theory, come, first,
those embodied in denials of its premises. It is not true, as
tacitly alleged, that the primitive man looks at the powers of
Nature with are. It is not true that he speculates about their
characters and causes. It is not true that he has a tendency to
make fictions. Every one of these alleged factors of the
mythopoeic process, though present in the developed mind, is
absent from the undeveloped mind, where the theory assumes it.

Tet further reasons are forthcoming. From premises un-
warranted by evidence, the conclusions are reached by processes,
which are illegitimate. It is implied that men, having originally
had certain signs of abstract conceptions, and therefore power
of forming such conceptions, were obliged, afterwards, to speak
and think in more concrete terms — a change not simply
gratuitously assumed, but exactly opposite in direction to that
which the developments of thought and language actually show
us. The formation of ideal persons out of abstract nouns, which
is ascribed to this necessity, ought to be clearly demonstrated
from the speech of existing low races, which it is not. Instead,
we have deductions from an ancient Sanskrit work, unintelligible
to the extent of having " seven seals," from which conclusions
called unquestionable are drawn by taking some statements and
ignoring others, and by giving to words which have a score
of meanings those most congruous with the desired conclusion.

Finally comes the fact which, even were the argument in
general as valid as it is fallacious, would be fatal to it — the fact
that personalization of natural powers, said to be suggested by
verbal terminations expressive of sex, occurs just as much where
there are no such terminations.

-. i

APPENDIX 0.

THE LINGUISTIC METHOD OF THE XYTHOLOGISTS.

Already in § 188, I have given an example of myth-inter-
pretation carried on after the current manner: the instance
being the myth of Sarama, which, on the strength of the
alleged derivation of the word, one mythologist regards as a
figurative account of the dawn, and another as a figurative
account of the storm. This conflict seems typical rather than
exceptional. Concerning the true renderings of these early
words, philologists are often at issue; and no wonder, con*
sidering that according to Prof. Max Miiller, Sanskrit is
" a language which expressed the bright and the divine, the
brilliant and the beautiful, the straight and the right, the bull
and the hero, the shepherd and the king, by the same terms."
(Rig -Veda, i, 121.) Examples of the resulting confusion are
continually thrust on the attention even of outsiders. The
Academy for January 17th, 1885, contains a letter in which,
speaking patronizingly of Mr. Dwijender Nath Tagore, a young
Hindoo philologist, Prof. Max Miiller quoteB some passages
showing that they are at issue concerning " the original meaning
[? meanings] of Matri, 'mother', Bhratrf, 'brother', and Svasri,
'sister'." Here are passages showing the disagreement.

" Max Miiller says that the meaning of the word Matr* is Maker (nirmatt-t) -
we say that its meaning is measurer (parlmatrt). . . . Prof. Max Mtiltar
says that the primary meaning of bhr&trt is one who hears a burden, but wp
say it is bh&gin, or sharer," etc., etc.

In the same number of the Academy is a letter from Mr. Rhys,
Professor of Celtic at Oxford, in which, after quoting Dr. Isaao
Taylor's question — " Does anyone doubt that Odin is the wind ?"
he says — " My impulse would have been just as confidently to
ask, Does anyone still think that Odin is the wind ?" And
then he refers to the first " among the Norse scholars of the
present day " as saying that Odin means primarily heaven, and
afterwards the god of wisdom. In a subsequent number of
the Academy (February 14th), M. Henri Gaidoz remarks on
the scepticism likely to be produced concerning mythological

appendix a 831

•

interpretations, when " one says Odin is the heaven ; another,
Odin is the wind ; according to a third, Odin is the storm : "
adding that " each of these opinions is supported by a learned
etymology which pretends to be the genuine one."

By way of farther showing on what a quicksand rents the
vast and elaborate structure of mythological interpretations,
let me here place for comparison two translations of the same
passage in the Rig-Veda .—

R.V. i, 85, 1. M Those who glance forth like wives and joke-fellows, thej
are the powerful sons of Rudra on their way. The Maruts hare made
heaven and earth to grow, they, the strong and wild, delight in tho sacri«
fices."— Max MUller.

"The Maruts who are going forth decorate themselves like females:
they are gliders (through the air), the sons of Rudra, and doers of good
works, by which they promote the welfare of earth and heaven : heroes,
who grind (the solid rocks), they delight in sacrifices." — Wilson.

Here we see how readily a language like Sanskrit lends
itself to those various figurative interpretations in which the
mythologists delight.

Deeper than objections hence arising, is an objection which
may be made to the assumption on which philologists at large
proceed — the assumption that there exists in all cases, or in
nearly all cases, a rational root for a word — a root, that is, to
which reason may trace back the word's origin. Now any one
who observes the transformations of words and strange devia-
tions of meanings occurring among ourselves, notwithstanding
the restraints imposed by education and by printing, will find
reason to challenge this assumption. If at present there goes
on what may be called by contrast an irrational genesis of
words, we may be sure that in early times such a genesis was
active, and that a considerable part of language resulted from
it. To help us in conceiving the transformations which then
took place perpetually, let us observe a few of the transforma-
tions which now take place occasionally.

By gardeners and greengrocers the name artichokes has been
abridged to " chokes ; " and this name appears even in the bills
sent to householders. They have made a still greater trans-
formation of the word asparagus. Misapprehension first led
them to call it " asparagrass ;" then it became " sparrowgrass ;"
and finally c< grass ;" which is the name now current in London
among those who sell it. In early days before there had arisen
any thoughts about correct speech, or any such check upon
change as results from literature, these abbreviated and cor-
rupted words would have replaced the original words. And
then, if at a later period search had been made for the
origins of them, philologists would inevitably have gone wrong.
What more obvious than that the name " choke " given

832 ArPKNDix c.

to an article of food, must have had reference to some alleged
effect of swallowing it ; or what more obvious than that the
name "grass" arose from a mistaken classing of the plant
with grasses at large.

Agreeing as we most with the philologists that from the
beginning dialectical changes have been perpetually trans-
forming words, let ns note some of the transformations which
dialects of our own language exhibit, that we may help our-
selves to imagine what must have resulted from kindred
divergences during thousands of years. In the Berkshire
dialect, the word "that" baa become "thak;" and in the
Devonshire dialect " this " has become " thickie." On referring
to " The general table of Grimm's Law," as given in Prof. Max
Mutter's /Science of Language, vol. ii, p. 246, 1 see no precedent
for a change of the * into the k. Passing over this, however, I
put a further question. Possibly the additional syllable in the
metamorphosed word " thickie" might not prevent identifica-
tion of it as modification of "this," when its grammatical
uses were studied. But suppose that in conformity with
Grimm's law, which shows that in Gothic th may be represented
by dy and in old high German becomes d ; suppose, 1 say, that
this word " thickie " became " dickie," what pnilologist would
then be able to identify it with " this " P Again, in the
Somersetshire dialect " uncle " has become " nnnk." Who, in
the absence of written language, would find the true derivation
of this word P Who would imagine that it had descended from
the Latin avuncuhu t Even were it admitted that the dropping
of the first syllable and of the last two syllables, might be sus-
pected without the aid of books (whicn is extremely impro-
bable), what warrant could be given for supposing a change
of the remaining syllable vunk into nunk ? Grimm's law does
not show us that v changes into n; and in the absence of
books there would be no clue. Once more, in the Somerset-
shire dialect " if " has become " nif." Instead of that abridge-
ment commonly undergone by words in course of time, we here
have expansion — a prefixed consonant. It seems not unlikely
that this change arose from the habit of always using " if " with
a prefixed "and" — "and if;" which, quickly spoken, became
u an' if," and still more quickly spoken "nif ; " but though this
supposition is countenanced by a change in the same dialect of
the word " awl " into " nawl " (which, probably at first M an
awl," became " a nawl "), it does not harmonize with the associ-
ated change of " lunch " into " nunch." But however it has
arisen, this growth of " if " into " nif " is one which effectually
hides the derivation of the word. Were the Somersetshire
dialect to become an independent language, as it might have
done in times like the*e of the primitive Aryans, no philologist

appendix a 833

could have traced " nif" to its root. The conclusion that " nif,r
used as the sign of a hypothetical proposition, was derived from
" gif, " meaning to hand over something, would have seemed
utterly unwarranted bj the meaning, and quite* at variance with
the laws of phonetic change.

Beyond such obscurations- as these, there are obscurations
caused by introductions of new words needed in new occu-
pations, institutions, processes,, games, etc., whi«h are subse-
quently transferred to ether spheres of use, while their original
nses cease. We have an instance in the name "booking-
office," as applied at railway-stations. Why booking-office?
Young people cannot say ;: though people whose memories go
back fifty years' can. In the old coaching -days, when the
accommodation for passengers was small,, it was a usual pre-
caution to secure a place one or more days before the day of
an intended journey. A elerk entered in a book the pas-
senger's name, the place taken by him, and the date for which
he took it. He was then said to be " booked ;" and hence the
office was called a booking-office. Railway-managers had at
first a slightly modified system. There was a book with paper
tickets and counterfoils^ of a kind like that now used in post-
offices for registering letters. On paying his fare the pas-
senger had his name written on the ticket and counterfoil, and
the ticket was then torn off and given to him. This method
was in use on the London and North Western Railway (then
the Londoft and Birmingham) as late as 1838, if not later.
Presently came the invention of that little stamping apparatus
which made it economical of time and trouble to adopt the stiff
tickets now universally used. The books and booking disap-
peared, but the name " booking-office " survived. When all who
remember pre-railway days are dead, any one who asks the
derivation of the word " booking" as thus applied, will be utterly
misled if he sets out with the ordinary assumption that the
word has arisen by modi6cations of some word having an ap-
propriate meaning. Railway-business, or rather railway-
making, supplies us with another familiar instance. Labourers
occupied in excavating cuttings and forming embankments,
are called "navvies." Whence the name? In future times
any one who asserts that " navvy " is short for navigator, will
probably be laughed at. How is it credible that a man occu-
pied in digging and wheeling earth, should be called by a name
which signifies one who sails the seas, and especially one who
directs the course of a ship P Yet impossible as this affiliation
will seem to those ignorant of recent history, it is the true one.
In the days when they were made, canals were thought of as
lines of inland navigation — so commonly so, that sometimes a
tavern built by the side of a canal was called a " Navigation

3 U

83 i ArPENoix a

Inn." Hence it happened that the men employed in excavat-
ing canals were called " navigators," and for brevity " navvies."
When railway-making began to replace canal-making, the same
class of men being employed in kindred work, carried with
them this abbreviated name, now no longer having even a
remotely appropriate meaning. And the name has eventually
been established as applying to any man engaged on earth-
works of whatever kind. Now if, even in our times, there are
aberrant origins of words — if these are at present numerous
among the uncultured, how multitudinous must they have been
among early peoples, who, on the one hand, were not restrained
by education from making changes, and who, on the other
hand, were compelled by the poverty of their vocabularies to
use metaphors far more than they are used now. Indeed, aa
extension of the meanings of words by metaphor has played a
chief part in the genesis of language, we may conclude that the
metaphorically-derived words which eventually became esta-
blished and apparently independent, form the most numerous
class of words. And we may further conclude that since
modifications go on very rapidly in early speech, the con-
nexions of such words with the words from which they wero
derived were most of them soon lost, and endeavours now made
to find their derivations must consequently be futile.

It has been replied to me when I have raised objections of
this kind, that philologists distinguish between words of which
the roots can be found, and words of which the roots cannot be
found. At the time when this reply was given, little force was
recognized in my rejoinder, that no trustworthy test is
assignable ; bat I abide by this rejoinder until a trustworthy
test is* assigned. It seems to me impossible to devise any
method by which there may be distinguished words of which it
is hopeless to find the derivations, from words of whioh tho
derivations may reasonably be sought. Indeed, false deriva-
tions sometimes present far more the appearance of true deri-
vations than do many of the derivations which really are true.
Here are some extracts from an imaginary dictionary of deriva-
tions, which we will suppose to be compiled a century hence.

Bukkb, 9. t. From a root which meant a refuge, usually inclosed, bat
which from the original sense of inclosure with security camo to mean
inclosure with suppression. In Icelandic, Swedish, and Danish we have
borpy "a fort or castle;" in Anglo-Saxon we hare burh, burg ; and in
middle English we have burgh, borgh, "a place of shelter.*' In middle
English borwgh meant " a den, care, or lurking place," whence in English
came burrow and borough. Anglo-Saxon had also the word beorga* to pro-
tect, whioh, as usual, dropped the terminal syllable. Hence, as borg, burk,
burgh meant a place of shelter or fortified plsce, to beorg meant to protect by
inclosure ; and this beorg or beorgh changing its guttural (as the Scotch word
loch has changed into the English lock), finally became burke. But a place
liiade secure by walls is also a place of imprisonment t and the meaning ot

appendix* a 535

being drat in eventually became the predominant meaning. A clear analogy
is furnished by the changed use of the word prevent. Of old, as in the Bible
(Ps. lix, 10) and in the Church of England service, it meant to go before
with tbe effect of helping, but it now meant to go before with the effect of
arresting. In like manner to burgh or burke, having originally meant to
inclose with the effect of protection, has oome to mean to inclose with
the effect of suppression. Hence a discussion is said to be burked when it is
suppressed. How natural is the connexion of ideas may be perceived at a
publio meeting, when, to a prosy speaker, there comes a shout of •' shut up."
Here there is obviously in this process of burking a speech, an unconscious
reference to the original fortified place, which, while it may be shut up to
keep out foes, may also be shut up to imprison inhabitants.

Now when, in a few generations, there has been forgotten
the story of the murderers Burke and Hare, who suffocated
their victims by clapping pitch-plasters on their mouths, this
might very well pass for a true derivation. The changes are
natural, and not greater than those which continually occur.
But let us take another case.

Post, v. t. To put a letter or packet into a place whence it is taken for de-
livery by public officials. This word is derived from the substantive poet, a
piece of timber set upright, — a name which was commonly transferred to an
upright pillar of iron (at one time not unfrequently an old cannon) fixed at
the corner of a street or other publio place. The hollow iron upright recep-
tacles for letters, which in large towns were placed at the corners of streets,
were for this reason called poete. Hence to post a letter meant to put a letter
into one of these hollow iron posts ; just as to warehouse goods meant to
put goods into a warehouse, or to ship a cargo meant to put a cargo into a
ship.

I do not see how a century hence any one could, without
an elaborate inquiry, detect the fallacy of this derivation ; and
in the absence of a literature, detection of the fallacy would be
impossible. Far less licence is taken than philologists habitually
take, and far fewer reasons for scepticism can be assigned. We
shall at once see this when we look at some samples of the
derivations which are put forth and widely accepted.

It is said that the Aryan word which in Sanskrit is Dyaus,
eventually became Tyr in Old Norse. This may be true;
though to establish such a strange genealogy seems to call for
more evidence than has survived during the lapse of thousands
of years, filled with numerous migrations and consequent social
changes. One may admit it as possible that our word daughter
comes from an ancient word duhitar% milker, from duh, to milk ;
though in accepting this conclusion we have to suppose that
an earlier word for daughter (which must have existed before
the Aryans reached the cattle-keeping stage) was replaced by
this new word, notwithstanding the inapplicability of the new
word to daughters in childhood and to married daughters.
Prof. Max Miiller may be right in tracing back the various
European names for the moon to a primitive name which in
Sanskrit is mas; and it may be, as he says, that "this mas

3 II 2

836 APPENDIX a

in Sanskrit is clearly derived from a root ma, to measure, to
mete " (Science of Language, i, 7) ; though if, as he supposes,
" the moon was originally called by the farmer the measurer,"
we most suppose either that before the Aryans reached the
farming stage and also the stage at which the general use of
measures had generated the conception of measuring, there
existed no name for the moon, or else that the pre-existing
familiar name had its place usurped by this unfamiliar me-
taphorical name : the usurpation being one which suggests the
probability that in America " shooting-iron " will by-and-by
replace rifle. But without contesting the correctness of these
derivations, one may naturally ask by what criterion they are
distinguished from the false derivations given above: — nay,
may even naturally ask how it happens that the false ones have
a greater apparent probability than these alleged true ones.

Fully to appreciate the linguistic method of interpreting
myths, we must, however, contemplate an example. Here is
an abbreviated passage from the Lectures on the Science of
Language, vol. ii, pp. 395 — 9.

" From rik in the sense of shining, it was possible to form a derivative
rfkta, in the sense of lighted up, or bright. This form does not exist in
Sanskrit, bnt as kt in Sanskrit is liable to be changed into ks, we may
recognise in riksha the same derivative of rik. .fiiksha, in the sense of
bright, has become the name of the bear, so called either from his bright eyes
or from his brilliant tawny fur. The same name, riksha, was given in
Sanskrit to the stars, the bright ones. . . . Now, remember, that the constel-
lation here called the JBikshas, in the sense of the bright ones, would bo
homonymous in Sanskrit with the Bears. . . . Yon will now perceive the in-
fluence of words on thought, or the spontaneous growth of mythology. The
name riksha was applied to the bear in the sense of the bright fuscous ani-
mal, and in that sense it became most popular in the later Sanskrit, and in
Greek and Latin. The same name, in the sense of the bright ones, had been
applied by the Vedio poets to the stars in general, and more particularly to
that constellation which, in the northern parts of India, was the most promi-
nent. . . . The Hindus also forgot the original meaning of riksha. It
became a mere name, apparently with two meanings, star and bear. In
India, however, the meaning of bear predominated, and as riksha became
more and more the established name of the animal, it lost in the same degree
its connection with the stars."

So that setting out from the root r\Jc shining and the deri-
vative rikta (which might have existed in Sanskrit bnt did
not), and assuming that the changed derivative riksha was
applied to the bear becanse of his " bright eyes," or " brilliant
tawny fur" (traits which do not distinguish him from other
animals), we have built up for us by various other assumptions
and suggestions the interpretation of the Great Bear myth !

To complete our conception we must not forget a certain
postulate with which this method of interpretation sets out j —
the postulate, namely, that there were originally certain roots
supernaturally given. Says Prof. Max Muller — " nothing new

— JB-™L_J=JH

appendix a 837

has ever been added to the substance of language ... all
its changes have been changes of form ... no new root or
radical has ever been invented by later generations, as little as
one single element has ever been added to the material world in
which we live ... in a very just sense, we may be said to
handle the very words which issued from the mouth of the son
of God, when he gave names to * all cattle, and to the fowl of
the air, and to every beast of the field ! ' " {Science of Language,
vol. i, 28 — 9). Hence the implication is that while those
divisions of language which we know anything about, have
arisen by processes of evolution, there was a special creation
preceding the evolution — an endowment of linguistic capital
in the shape of roots having abstract meanings. Further, we
are taught that mankind lost their original ability to frame
abstract ideas and use the corresponding abstract words; and
that whether or not there was any other " fall of man," there
was a linguistic fall of man.

Thus as a basis for the " science " of language, we are asked
to accept the Hebrew legend of the creation. Then the
linguistic theory built upon this foundation of legend, is used
as a key to the " science " of religion ; which " science " of
religion sets out with absolute negations of the two funda-
mental methods of science. It asserts, as innate in the primi-
tive man, a religious consciousness which instead of being
proved to exist by an induction from many cases is not exem-
plified in a single case ; and for the established deduction from
the laws of thought, that the development of ideas is from
concrete to abstract, it substitutes the assertion that the deve-
lopment of religious ideas has been from the abstract to the
concrete. Lastly, the conclusions reached by taking a modified
Babylonian superstition as a postulate, and reasoning by in-
verted scientific methods, we are asked to accept instead of
the conclusions which observation of the languages and religions
of rude tribes of men everywhere force upon us !

REFERENCES.

To find the authority for any statement in the text, the reader is to
proceed as follows : — Observing the number of the section in which
the statement occurs, he will first look out in the following pages,
the corresponding number, which is printed in conspicuous type.
Among the m references succeeding this number, he will then look
for the name of the tribe, people, or nation concerning which the
statement is made (the names in the references standing in the
same order as that which they have in the text) ; and that it may
more readily catch the eye, each such name is printed in Italics. In
the parenthesis following the name, will be found the volume and page
of the work referred to, preceded by the first three or four letters of
the author's name ; and where more than one of his works has been
used, the first three or four letters of the title of the one containing the
particular statement. The meanings of these abbreviations, employed
to save the space that would be occupied by frequent repetitions of full
titles, is shown at the end of the references ; where will be found
arranged in alphabetical order, these initial syllables of authors1
names, &c, and opposite to them the full titles of the works
referred to.

§3. Congo (Tack. 178)— Termite* (Schwein. if 850). § 16. E<*rt

Africa (Burt. " Cen. M ." i, 94)— Negroes (Liv. " Miss. Tra." 78 ; Schwein.
i, 148; Speke, 330). § 17. Coral (Dana, 289) — Greece (Toz. 8 ; Grote,

ii. 296). § 19. India (Fay. "Tiger," 42-3 ; Fay. "Than." 32)— Bechuana
(ref. lost)— Orinoco (Hum. ii, 273)— Bart Africa (Liv. " Zambesi," 190).—
Termite* (Hum. ii, 288). 24. Chinook* (Lew. k CI. 425)— Shoshone*

(Lew. & CI. 812)— Guiana (Brett, 2&)—Arav>ak* (Ber. 29) — Guarani*
(Waits, iii, 413)— Tamulian (As. S. B. iviii, pt. ii, 710)— Puttooa* (As. 8.
B. xxv, 296)—Fuepian* (Wilkes, i, 121)— Andaman*** (Kth. 8. "Trans."
N.S. iy, 210)— Veddah* (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. ii, 282)— Bushmen (Arb.
243 ; Bar. i, 233)—Akka (Schwein. ii, 140)— Bushmen (ref. lost). § 25.
Ottyak* (Pall, ir, Z2)—KamschadaUs (Kraah. 175)— Kookie* (As. S. B. xxir,
pt. ii, 636)— Chinook* (Lew. and CI. 42$)— Guarani* (Waitz, iii, 413)—
Patagonian* (Fit*, ii, YM)—A1cka (Schwein. ii, 129, 141). § 26.

Kanuchadale* (Kraah. 175) — Bushmen (Bar. i, 234)— Akka (Schwein. ii,
129, 141)— Veddah* (Ten. ii, 460)—J>amara* (Gal. 192)— Yakut* (Wrang.
827, note; Coch. i, 255)— Comanche* (School, i, 231)— Bushmen (Thomp.
i, 99). § 27. Tasmanians (Bon. 120)— Papuan* (KacgiU. i, 277) —

Da.nara* (Roy. G. S. xxii, 15*; Gal. 173) —Dakota** (Burt. * Saints,"
127.) §28. Yakuts (Wrang. dQ*)— Tamulian (As. S. B. xviii:

pt. ii, 709). § 29. Bushmen (Licht. ii, 194)- Zulus (Gard. 233)—

840 REFERENCES.

Abipones (Bob. ii, 32). § 32. Savage (WaL — ). § 33. Creek*

(Sobool. v, 274)— Guiana (Ber. 46; Hum. "Trav." iii, 5)— Indian (Wal.
"Amazon," 92)— CV**** (SohooL V, 272)— Chinook (Rom, "Fur. Hun."
i, 125)— Brazilian (South, i, 223)— Kamschadales (Lath, i, 486)— Kirghiz
(Lath, i, 844) — Bedouin (Burt "El Medinah," iii, 46)— Arabs (Den. i,
411 ; Palg., W. G., i, 155)— East African (Burt. " Cen. Af." ii, 326-
326)— Damaras (Gal. 233)— ,ffb««tfofr (Buroh. ii, 67)— £k#A»*» (Arb.
243, 245-6)— Malagasy (Ell. "Hislorj," i, 140)— Papuan (Wal. "MaL
Arch." ii, 448)— Fijians (Enk. i, 263 ; Wilkes, Hi, 76)— Andaman**, (Eth.
8. "Trans." N.S. iv, 210)— Tasmanians (Bon. 56)— Fuegian* (Fitx. ii, 188 ;
Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. i, 264)— Australian* (Hayg. 102; Sturt, "Cent.
Austr." i, 124)— Bushman (Licht. ii, 224). § 34. Australians (Eth. S.

" Trans." N.S. iii, 223)— Hottentot* (Kol. i, 46)— Bushmen (Bar. i, 244)—
Jfofat (Eth. 8. " Trans." N.S. vii, 2*1)— Bhils (As. S. B. xi, 606)— SaafcOf
(Hun. i, 155) — Kookie»m note (As. 8. B. xxiv, pt. ii, 636) — Loango* note
(Pink. xvi, 563)— Esquimaux (Hall, i, 130). § 35. Jfiatfro* (Eth. S.

" Trans.1' N.S., iii, 79, 78)— Borneo (Lub. " Origin," 10)— Bushmen (Arb.
243-4)— 2?»wa (Bates, 160)— Caribs (Edw. i, 42)—Bhils (Roy. A. &
" Trans." i, 88)— Bodo (As. S. B. rriii, pt. ii, 746)— Lepchas (Eth. S.
"Journal," N.S. i, 152)— Bedouin (Burck. i, 250-1 ; Palg., W. G.,i, 70)—
Kew Guinea (Earl, " Papuans," 6) — Kamschadales (Krash. 175) — Damaras
(Gal. 232-3)- Malay (Wal. "Malay," ii, 443)— Todas <Eth. 8. "Trans."
N.S. vii, 241)— Fijian* (See. 192) § 36. South America (Wal.

" Malay," ii, 460). § 37- Australia (Sturt, " South Austr." ii, 143)

— Java (Earl, "East. Seas," 111) -Pacific (Ersk. 318)— Vati (Tur. "Nine-
teen," 895)— Makololo (Lir. "Miss. Tra."611)— Fueglans (Wilkes, i, 126)
—New Guinea (Kolff, 30))— £u«fai«» (Mof. 68)— JL»<*am«»€« (Mouat,285)
— Bushmen (Licht. ii, 194-5; Mof. 156; Bur. ii, b4)—N*v> Caledonians
(Font. 240)— Tannese (Font. 242)— 2Vew Guinea (Earl, " Papuans," 49, 80)
—Tahitians (Ell. "Pol. Res." new ed. i, 96)— Dyaks (Brooke, ii, 89, and i,
57)— Javans (Raf. i, 245)— Malays (Wal. M Malay," i, 380)— Brazilians
(South, i, 223)— Fijians (Will., T., i, 129)— Damaras (Roy. G. S. xiii,l59;
Ande. 156)— Bhils (Roy. A. S. " Journal," riii, 191)— Nagas (As. S. B.
xxiv, 609)— Bodo (As. S. B. XYiii, pt. ii, 745-6)— Lepchas (Hooker, i, 129,
128)— Fans (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. iii, 41)— Cucdmas (Bates, 293).
§ 38. Houssas (ref. lost)— CrwJr* (School, v, 691)— Africans (Lir. " Miss.
Tra.'' 206)— Dvaks (Tylor, "Prim. Cult." i, 71). § 40. Bushmen

(Bar. i, 231)— Karens (As. S. B. xxxy, pt. ii, 13)— Siberian (Prich. iv, 449)
—Brazilians <Hern. 143)— Abipones (Dob. ii, 82, 18)— Veddahs (Eth. 8.
"Trans." N.8. ii, 289)— Bedouins (Palg., W. G., ii. 240; Burt. "El
Medinah," i, 869)— Hotte ntots (Burch. i, 175) —Damaras (Gal. 145)— Prairie
Indians (Burt. "Saints," 154)— Brazilian (Bates, 222)— Arawaks (Roy.
G. S. ii. 231)— Guiana (Brett, 344; Sehom. ii, 75)— Esquimaux (Eth. 8.
" Journal," i, 290)— Hottentot* <Kol. *, 241)— JW^iaiw (Fitx. i, 65)—
Tongans (Wilkes, iii, 19)— Santals (As. S. B. xx, 555). § 41. Brazilian

(Bares, 277)— Eatt African (Burt " Cen. Af." ii, 337)— Damara (Gal. 176-7)
—Bedouin (Palg., W. G.t i, 137)— Sumatran* (Man. 208)— Malagasy
(EU. " History,,p i, 136). § 42. !>?<*** (St. John. S., i, 28)— Karens

(As. S. B. xxxvii, pt. ii, 128)— Kamschadales (Kotx. ii, 16) — Mountain-
Snake (Ross, " Fur. Hun." i, 250)— Brazilian (Hern. 236)— Patagoniams
(WUkes, i, 114)— Guaranis (Dob. ii, 6&)—F*egian* (Wed. 15±)—Anda-
manese (Eth. S. u Trans." N.S. ii, 46)— S. Australians (Sturt "South.
Aust." i, 106). § 43. Fuegians (Fits, i, 2i)—Andamanese (Eth. S.

" Trans." N.S. t, 45)— ^«# (Lub. "Origin," 9-10) — Brazilian (Spix, ii,
253 ; Bates, 277)— Abipones (Dob.ii, 59)— East Africans (Burt. "Cen. Af."
ii. 200)— Malagasy (EU. " History," i, 136)— Damaras (Gal. 133)— Mill*
tribes (As. S. B. xviii, pt i, 242)— Brazilians (Spix, ii, 251-2). § 45.

REFERENCES. 841

Australians (How. i, 68)—Patago*ians (Hawk, i, Sl8)—Veddahs fPrid.
46Q)—Samoiedes (Pink, i, 584). § 46. Bushmen (Burch. i, 461)—

8amoans (Wilkes, ii, 127)— Tahitians (Ell. " Pol. Res." ii, 19)— Cucoma
(Bates, 294, 277)— Negroes (Park, i, 265). § 47. Nile basin (Eth. S.

* Trane." N.S. v, 233). § 48. Squat. Africa (Reade, 244)— Negro

Surt. "West Af." i, 259)— Aleuts (ref . lost)— Sort African (Burt. " Cen.
." ii, 324)— Australians (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. iii, 223). §52.
Esquimaux (Hayes, 125-6 j Eth. S. " Journal," i, 141)— Fijians (Ersk. 435)—
Orinoco (Hum. (< Tray." ii, 42&)— Dakota* (Burt. "Saints," \4A)—Abipones
(Alcedo, i, 3)— Guaranis (South, ii, S68)—Caribs (Edw. i, 47)— Bulloms
(Winter, i, 255)— Africans (Ast. ii, 664)— Iroquois (Morg. 174)— Creeks
(School, v. 269)— Karens (As. S. B. zzxiy, pt. ii, 195)— Malagasy (Ell.
'History," i, 393). § 54. Egyptians* note (St. John, B., 79). § 55.
Insects (Wal. " Nat. Sel." 66, 58, 54, 59-60). § 56. Benin (Bas.

"Mensch," ii, 852)— Wanika (Bas. "Mensch," ii, 4&)— Greenlanders
(Crante, i, 185)— Fijians (Will., T., 241). § 57- *V/taiw (Will., T., it

241). § 58. Abipones (South, iii, 404)— Cfcrnaaa (Herr. iii, 311)—

Niger (Lander, R. and J., iii, 242). § 65. New Zealanders (Thorns.,

A. S.v ii, 209)— Bushmen (Ande. 28)— Arawdk (Brett, 108)— Esquimaux
(Eth. 8. "Joum." i, 141). § 66. Child* note (Rer. Phil, i,

14). § 69. Peruvians (Cieza, 228)— Abipones (Dob. ii, 183)— Zuni

iPop. S. M. 1876, 580)— Bushmen and Arapahos (Lub. " Origin/' 413).
70. N. A. Indians (School, vi, 66^)— GreenUnders (Crants, i, 185)—
New Zealanders (Thorns^ A. S., i, 113)— Fiji (WilL, T., i, 242)— Dyaks
(St John, S., i, 189)— Karens (As. S. B. zzziv, pt. ii, 199)— Peruvians
(Oar. i, 129)— Jews (Mills, 56)/ § 71. Chippewas (Keat. ii, 155)—

Malagasy (Drur. 179)— 8andwich Isldrs. (Ell. ''Hawaii/' 251)— Congo
(Reade, 248)— Wanika (Erapf, 171)— Kaffirs (Shooter, 399)— Zulus (Cal.
146-7)— Hebrews (Genesis xv, 1, & xx, 8; I Samuel iii, 10).— Iliad
(Horn. bk. xxiii). { 76. Chippewas (Keat. ii, 158)— Myths

(Fiske, " Myths," 78). § 77. ^dus (CaL 232). § 79. Karens

(As. S. B. xxxiv, pt. ii, 199, and xxxv, pt. ii, 28)— Algonquins (Tylor, " Prim.
Cult." i, 436)— Dyaks (St. John, Bn i, 189)— Australians, Ac (Tvlor,
"Prim. Cult." i, 489)—Greenlanders (Crants, i, 184)— & Australians
Scheur. 28, 73). § 81. Death (For. & T. iii, 316). § 82. Bush-

men (Arb. 255)— Tasmanians (Bon. 174)— Toda (Per. 814)— Damara
(Gal. 190)— Tupis (South, i, 248). § 83. Arawaks (Roy. G. S. ii, 70)

—BankS Islanders (Anth. I. " Jour." z, 281)— Hos (As. S. B. iz, pt. ii, 705)—
Fantees (Cruic. ii, 216)— Caribs (Heriot, 546)— Samoa (Turn. " XIX" 272)
—Loango (Ast. iii, 222)— Gold Coast (Beech. 227)— Hebrews (Gru. 19)—
Todas (Hark. $2)—Bechuanas (Mof. 808)— /amrife (Hall, ii, 197)— Bagos
(CaiL i, 164)— ZoojKm (As. S. B. zziy, 621)— Malagasy (Drur. 235)—
Mexicans (Clay. i, 822-3)— Peruvians (Sncas, 44). § 84. ^m» (Kolff,

167)— Tahitians (E1L " Pol. Res." i, 524)— Malanaus (Brooke, i, 78)—
Curumbars (Hark. 133)— Fantees (Beech. 228)— Karens (As. S. B. xxxv, pt.
ii, 28) — New Zealanders (Aug. ii, 71)— Brazilians (Herr. iv, 97) — Peruvians
(ref. lost) — Sherbro (SchOn, 31) — Loango (Pink, xn, 597) — Dahomans (Burt.
" Dahome," ii, 164)— -BArt* (As. S. B. zz, 507)— Caribs (Irv. 9)—Chibchas
(Sim. 258)— Peruvians (Tschu. ii, 398)— Rookies (But. 86)— Central Am.
JOvi. pt. iii, 4*). § 85. Bodo (As. S. B. zriii, pt. ii, 796)—Kookies

(As. Res. yii, 194) — Innuits (Hall, ii, 197) — N. American Indians (School, iv,
66)— Mexico (Tor. 31)— Peruvians (Yncas, 47-8 ; Pi*. 238-40). § 86.

Guaranis (South, ii, 37 1)— Esquimaux (Lub. " Prehistoric" 524)— Peru-
uians (Arri. ±l)—Iroquoi* (Morg. 175)— Brazilians (Burt. " Brazils," ii, 50)
—Sherbro (Schon, 31)— W. Australians (Eth. Soo. " Trans." N.S. iii, 245).
§ 87. Chibchas (Sim. 258)— Egyptian (Kbers, i, 334)— Damaras (Chap,
ii, 282)— Matiamba (Bas. " Mensch," ii, 378)— JKa»»cAaAi/e* (Krash. 220)

842 REFERENCES.

» _

—New Zealand (Thorny A. 8., i, 188)— Muruts (St. John, 8., ii, 129) —
Tahitians (Ell. "Pol. Res." i, 525)— £edtaz»a (Lir. "Miss. Tra." 90)
—Bogota (Sim. 271)— Urua (Cam. ii, 110)— Af««<faiw (Gat. "N. A. In-
dians," i, 89)— Guiana (Hum. ii, 488)-CAiftci<w (Sim. 258)— Peruvian*
(Cieza, oh. 63)—Mandingoes (Park, i, 271)— £ty«tM<z«* (Crantz, i, 217)
—Bodo (As. S. B, xriii, pt. ii, 736)— Damara (Ande. 228)— Inland Negroes
(Park, ii, 196)— San Salvador (Squier, 844)— Guatemala (Xim. 213)—
Cartcio* (Cieza, eh. 63 ; Aeon., Joaq., 126-7). § 88. Mexicans (Herr.

ir, 126).— PmmaM (Gar. i, 127)— Zoomo (Pink, xri, 596)— Chibchas (Sim.
258)— Penreumt (Gar. ii, 92). § 89. Patroclus (Horn. " Iliad," Lang,

bk. xxiii, p, 4&l)—Tasmanian (Bon. 97)—Soosoos (Winter, i, 239)— Coast
Negroes (Cruio. ii, 218)— Damar as (Ande. 227)— Hawaii (E1L " Hawaii,"
146)— Samoa (Tar. " Nineteen," 227)— Tonga** (Marin, i, 393)— Jfes*
Zealanders (Thorns., A. 8., i, \SS)—Tannese (Tor. "Nineteen," 319)—
Madagascar (" Eng. Indep." July 30, 1868, p. 810)— Greenlander (Crants,
i, 219)— Chinook (Ross, "Oregon," 97)— Todas (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. rii,
tU)— Arabs (Burck. i, 101)— Abipones (Dob. ii, 274)— Peruvians (Cieza,
151)— rajrma»KZM# (Bon. 97)— Greenlanders (Crants, i, 219)— Chinook*
(Boss, "Oregon," 97)— Comanches (School, ii, 133-4)— Dakotah* (Burt.
"Saints," 150)— Sandwich Isldrs. (EU. "Hawaii," 147-8)— Dahomau*
(Burt. ~Dahomeyr ii, 167)— Ifeartco- (Tor: 22 * Herr,iii, 209 and 216)—
Samoa (Tur, "Nineteen," 227). § 90. Ambamba (Bas. "Af. R."

82)— Inland Negroes (Lander, R. & J., iii, US)— Zambesi (Lir. " Miss. Tra.'*
678)— Fijians (WiU., T., i, 204)— Peru (Gar. i, 127)— Moslem (Burt. "El
Med." ii, 110)— Cremation (" Times," July 6, 1874). § 91. Negro

(Park, i, 91).— Mats (Genesis, ii, 7). { 92. Australians (Bon. 185)—

New Caledonians (Tur. "Nineteen," 424)— Darnley Island (MacgilL ii, 29)
—Krumen (Burt M Dahoml," ii, 165)— Karens (As. 8. B. xxxiv. pt. ii, 198)
— Araucanianf (Alcedo, i, 411)— Quimbaya (Fern. 297) — Peruvians (Gar. i,
127 ; Acos., Jos. de, ii, 814)— Samoa (Tur. " Hundred," 150)— Peruvian*
(Am. 34)— Amagulu (Cal. 854)— Fiji (Will., T., i, 248)— Amatulu (Cal.
855). § 93. TahitUns (EU. "Pol. Res." i, 516)— Yakuts (Hill, ii,

278)— Yucatan (Oroz. 157)- Nicobar (As. 8. B. xr, 849)— Egyptians (Rer.
Scien. 1 March, 1879)— Greeks (ThirL i, 224 ; Horn. " Iliad," Buckley,
bk. xxiii, p. 42ti)— Semi- substantiality (Trior, "Prim. Cult." i, 465-6).
§ 94. Nicaraguans (Ori. pt. iii, 43, 45)— Chancas (Cieza, 316)— Central
Amer. (Ori. pt. iii, 42) — Dying men (Reit.) — Greenlanders (Crantz, i, 185)
—Amazulu (Cal. 91) -^Iroquois (More. 176)— Fraser Island (Smyth, i, 121)
—Ansayrii ( Walpole, iii, 349). § 95. Tasmanians (Roy. 8. V. D. iii, 180)

—Aztecs (Brin. 60). § 96. Karens (As. 8. B. xxxir, pt. ii, 211)—

Chippewas (Keat. ii, IBS)— Fijians (See. 398; Will., T., i, 241)— Mexicant
(Tern, ir, 195)— Laches (Fern. 14). § 97. Bongo (Schwein. i, 307V—

Karens (As. S. B. xxxiv, pt. ii, 196)— Malagasy (E1L "History," i, 429)—
#***«»* (Clav. i, 242)— Malagasy (Ell. " History," i, 429-30). § 98.

Basutos (Lub. " Origin," 219)— Fijian (Will., T., i, 245). § 99. Coman-
ches (School, i, 237)— Guatemala (Brin. 216). § 100. Manganjas and
Negroes (Lub. " Origin," 216, 234). § 101. Chinook* (Wilkes, ▼,
118)— Comanches (School, v, 685)— Yucatan (Steph. i, 421)— Tapis (South, i,
248)— Fiji (Will., T, i, 247). § 102. Creek (School v, 269)— Comanches
(School, i, 287)— Patagonians (Fait 114) — New Hebrides (Eth. 8.
" Journal," iii, 62)— Peruvians (Arri. 41)— Todas (Marsh. 125)— Tasmanians
(Tas. "Jour." i, 253)— Dakotahs (School, ii, 178). § 103. Tongou*
(Atk. 483)-^&>>o*» (Dob. ii, 269)— Dahomans (Burt. "Dahomey* ii, 164)
—Patagonians (Falk. 119)— JV^o* (As. 8. B. xxxir, 615)— Guiana (RaL
109, note)— Papuan (Earl, "Papuans," 86)— Ynca (Pros. "Pern," i, 29)—
Ancient Mexican (Tern, i, 213)— Chibcha (Sim. 258)— Malagasy ("Kng.
Indep." July 30, 1868, p. 810)— JftfAmit (As. 8. B. xir, pt. ii, 488)— Old

REFERENCES. 843

Calabar (Burt. "Dahome\" ii, 262)—Fantees (Beech. 229)- Dyaks (Low,
203-4)— Kirghiz (Atk. 488)— TWa (Eth. 8. « Trans." N.8. yii, 245)—
F«fc«» (Tur. " Nineteen/' 460)— P#r« (Tschu. ii, 356). $ 104. Me*>

team* (Herr. iii, 220-21)— Vera Paz (Xim. 212)— Mexicans (Clav. i, 325) —
Pern (Pree. " Peru," i, 29-30)— Japanese (Roy. Scien. Jan. 18, 1879)—
Guaranis (Waits, iii, 419)— Ynea (Oar. — ; Ciesa, 223)— Chibchas (Sim.
258)— Tonqnin (Tav. plate)— ForafaM (Lan, —)— Congo (Aet. iii, 260)—
CAi*oo* (Kane, 178) — ^aeifcam (Tur. " Nineteen," 372). § 105.

Tahitians (Hawk, ii, 239 ; E1L " Pol. Bee." i, 328)— Tongane (Marin, ii,
103-4)— Fiji (Will., T., i, 188)— Chibchas (Sim. 258)— Karen* (As. S. B.
xxxir, pt. ii, 205)— Kookie (At. 8. B. xxiv, 632)— Dahomans (Forb. i, 170)
—Kaffir* (Shooter, 161)— Akkra (Baa. " Mensch," ii, 91)— Assyria* (Re-

Fijian (Ersk. 247 ; Will., T., i, 218-246)— Greeks ( Black ie, 6, note ; Ifom.
" Iliad," bk. r)—Amazulu (Gal. 203-4)— Tahitians (£11. " Pol. Bee." i, 517).
§ 108. Kaffirs (Shooter, 240) — Australian {Lub. " Origin," 878) —
Koossas (Licht. i, 260)—£agos (Gail, i, IMS)— Comanche* (SehooL t,
685)—Chippewayan* (Frank. 132)— Chinese (Thome., J., "Strait*," 393).
§ 110. Sandwich Isldrs. (Ell. " Hawaii," 251)— Madagascar (Ell. " His-
tory," i, 893)— Guiana (Ber. 100)— Gold Coast (Cruic. ii, Wo)— East
Africans (Liv. — )— Zambesi (Liv. " Miss. Tray." 434)— Aleutian (Baa. — )
—Kamschadales (Krash. 221)— Lepchas (Eth. S. "Journal," N.S. i, 149) —
Creek (School, y, 270) — Balonda (Liv. " Miss. Tray." 314) — Hottentots
(Kol. i, 126)— JBooWm (Baa. "Af. R." 820)— Bechuanas (Thomp i, 214).
§111. Afcw Caledonia and Eromanga (Tur. " Nineteen," 428 and 496)
— Go# CVxirf (Bas. " Mensch," ii, b6)—Bulloms (Winter, i, 222-3)— Caribs
(Brett, 126)— Comanches (School, ii, lSS)—Patagoniant (Fits, ii, 158)—
Arabia (Burck. i, 280)— ItyaJw (Low, 245 ; St. John, S., i, 172)— Tahiti
(EU. " Pol. Res." i. 516)— India (Lub. " Origin," 374)— Khonds (Roy. A. 8.
"Journal," viL 197)— Cave-burial (Nilason, lbb)—Patagonians (Falk.
115). § 112. Peruvians (Pres. "Peru," i, 2Q)—Mandans (Lew. & CL

102)— Mangaia (Gill, — )— 2\fa« Zealand (Thorns., A. S. i, 9G)—Santal
(Hun. i, 153)— Teutonic (ref. lost)— Cftono* (Eth. 8. —)—Araucanian*
(Alcedo, i, 410)— Peruvians (Tschu. ii, S98)—Ottom*cks (Schom. ii, 319)—
Central Americans (Ori. pt. iii, 43) — Chinook* (Waits, iii, 339) — Chippewa*
(Keat. ii, 158)— Kalmucks (Pall, i, 674)— Kookies (As. 8. B. xxiy, 632)—
Todas (Marsh. 126) — Eromanga (Tur. "Nineteen," 496) — 2#W (Tur.
• Nineteen," 40l)—Mapuche* (Smith, E. R., 173)— Dowaro* (Ande. 226)—
Bechuanas (Mof. 807)— ^i*3eru?a (Cat. "Last Ram." S2Z)—Ba*uto (Arb.
131)— Sechele (Tylor, " Researches," 859)— IW« (Marsh. 125)— JV/% (Will.,
T., i, 188)— New Caledonians (Tur. "Nineteen," 425) — M exicans (Clay, i,
322-3)— Esquimaux (Lub. "Prehistoric," 624)— Gold Coast (Bos. 156)—
South America (Hum. ii, 361) — Kanowits (St. John, S.. i, 42) — Malanaus
(Brooke, i, 78)— Chinook* (Ban. i, 247)— Fijian (See. 899)— Samoan (Tur.
"Nineteen," 235 ft 322)— Sandwich Is. (Ell. "Hawaii," 106)— New Zea-
land (Ang. ii, 71, 154 ; Thorns., A. S., i, 187)— Chonos (Eth. S. " Trans."—)
—Araucanian* (Waits, iii, 520)— Australians (Bon, 92; Ang. ii, 228)—
Chinook* (Ross, " Oregon," 97) — Ostyaks (Bas. " Mensch," ii, 331).
$ 113. Samoan (Tur. " Nineteen," 237)— Tongans (Marin, i, 65 ; ii, 99,
128)— Nicaragua (Ori.pt. iii, 42)—Patagonians (Falk. 115)— Babylonians*
note (Smith, "Ass. Dis.A 212). § 114. Borneo (St. John, S., i, 172)—

Mexico (Tern, i, 168)— Panches (Fern. 319)— Peruvians (UUoa, i, 473)—
Borneo (Brooke, i, 235 ; ii, 106-57)— Dyaks (St. John, S., i, 189-90)—
Zulus (Cal. 880, 385) —Ancient Mexicans* note (Clay, i, 261-2). § 117.

844 REFERENCES,

Australian* (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. iii, 228)— Veddah* (Eth. S. "Trans."

N.S. ii, dOl)—Ta*manian* (Boy. 8. V. D. iii, 180)— Amazon* (Wall.

"Amazons," 498) —Karen (A. 8. B. xxxiv, pt. ii, 196)— Tamtam* (EU.

" Pol. Reg." i, 625)— Nieobar (A. 8. B. xt, 848-49) -Arab (Bas. " Mensch."

ii, 109-10). § 118. Karen* (At. 8. B. xxiiv, pt. ii, 204)— Nieobar

(Bas. — )— Socks (Lir. — )— Danakil (Harr., W. C., i, 852)— Tropical

(Hum. iii, 183)— Arauoanian* (Ale ^do, i, 411)— P6hono* note (Ban. iii, 126).

§119. Veddah (Eth. 8. "Trans." N.S. ii, 301-2) — Australian (Roj.

8. V. D. iii, 179)— Athantee* (Beeoh. 181-2) Homeric (Horn. "Iliad,"

Buckley, passim) — Arauoanian (Alcedo, i, 410). — African (Liv. "Miss.

Tray." 607). § 120. 2>y<**« (St. John, 8., ii, 66). § 122. Congo

(Beade, 250)— East African* (Burt. " Gen. Af." ii, 854)— Arabic (Baa.

"Mensch," ii, 591) — Amazulu (Cal. 263, 361, 368). § 123. Amazulu(CnL

185) — Abyssinian* (Parkyns, ii, 145) — Tongan* (Marin, i, 102-8) — Amazulu

(Cal. 263)— Khond* (Per. 883)— Yakut* (Coch. i, 293)— Kirghiz (Atk.,

Mrs., 154). § 124. Arab* (Petb. 221)— Samoan* (Tur. "Nineteen,"

221)— Sumatrans (Mars. 191)— Ea*t (Bamb. 190)— J>«# (Sup. Bel. i, 120,

US)— Church (Burn,iy, 661). § 125. Amazulu (Cal. 269)— Samoan*

(Tur. " Nineteen," 236) -Dyak* (St. John, S., i, 62)— Arawak* (Brett, 862)

—Land Dyak* (St. John, S.( i, 178)— Karen* (As. 8. B. xxxr, pt. ii, 24)—

Lepcha* (Hooker, i, 13&)—Bodo and Dhimal* (As. 8. B. xyiii, pt. ii, 722)

—Coatt Negroes (Winter, i, 2S6)—Koo**a* (Licht. i, 255)— Zulu (Cal. 204)

—Comanche* (Eth. 8. "Journal," ii, 268)—Mundrucu* (Hern. 315) —

Babylonian* (Smith, " Ass. Disc." 176)— Greek* (Horn. " Iliad," Lang, bk. i,

2-3)— Visitation of the sick (Prayer). § 126. Uaupe* (Wal. "Amazon,"

500) — Chippewayan* (Hearne, 338)— Kalmuck* (Pall. — ) — Kookie* (As.

8.B. xxiv, 630)— Khond* (Boy. A. 8. "Journal," vii, 197)— Bushmen (Arb.

254) — Bechuana* (Burch. ii, 551)— Coast Negroes (Winter, i, 235) — Africa

(Eth. 8. " Trans." N.S. iii, 4S)—Loango (Ast. iii, 224) ~ Tahiti ans (Ell.

"Pol. Bes."i, 616)— Naga (But 160)— Tasmanians (Bon. 180)— Zoro-

Hottentot* (Iacht. ii, Appendix ii). § 129. Diomede (Horn. "Iliad,"

Lang, bk. r, p. 86)— Egyptian* (Becords, ii, 70-72). § 130.

Tahitians (EU. " Pol. Res." ii, 235)— Homeric (Blackie, 11)— Helen (Horn.

"Iliad," Lang, bk. iii, p. 53)— Homeric (Blaokie, 15, 14,)— Congoese (Tuck.

162)— Tahkali* (Brin. 263)— Ordaining Priett* (Prayer). § 131.

Amazulu (Cal. 887, 259, 264, 260, 273)— Fijian (Will., T., i, 224)— Santa U

(As. S. B. xx, hi!)— Homer (Blackie, 48)— Zulu (Cal. 265). § 132.

Mishmis (As. 8. B. xiv, pt. ii, 4S7)—Sumatrans (Mars. 191)— Californian

(Ban. iii, 160)— Koniaga (Ban. i, 85)— Columbian* (Ban. i, 286)—Cumana

(Herr. iii, 310)— Raphael (Sup. Bel. i, 102)— Exorcism (Hook, 328 ; Lee, i,

69-69) —Amazulu (Cal. 161). § 133. Kaffir* (Eth. 8. "Trans." HJB.

v, 290)— Tahitian* (EU. "Pol. Bes." i, 121)— Australians (Eth. 8. "Trans."

N.8. iii, 236)— Jewith (ref. lost)— Australian* (Eth. 8. " Trans." N.S. i,

289)— Cucama* (Gar. i, 66)— Taridna* (Wal. " Amazon," 498)— ArawAkt

(Waitz, iii, 388)—Koniaga* (Ban. i, 76)— Chinook* (Ban. i, 245)— Mapuchiz

(Smith, E. B. 222)— JPT. American* (Burt. "Saints," 142)— #. American*

(Smith, E. B. 222)— Chinook (Kane, 205 ; Ban. i, 245)— Dyak* (St. John,

8., i, 197)— Tasmanians (Tas. "Jour." it2bZ-4)—Patagonians (Fits, ii, 16 )

— New Zealander* (ref. lost) — Amazulu (Cal. 270) — Ancient Peruvian*

(Arri. 21-22)— Tannete (Tur. "Nineteen," 89, 91)— Chippewa* (Keat. ii,

168)— 4*vfra* (Bas. "Mensch," ii, 857)— Ancient Peruvian* (Arri. 21-2)—

Europe (ref. lost)— England (Stat. iy. pt. 2, 1028)— ZTA/wi*«efr# note (Ban.

iii, 147) — Koniaga-vohaler* (Ban. i, 76) — Athantee (Beeoh. — ) — Damara*

(Ande. 179, 330)— Dyak (Boyle, 207)— Brazilian (3pix, ii, 244). § 134.

Bechuana* (Bas. " Mensch/ ii, 265)— Yoruba* (Burt, " Abeokuta," i, 303)

— 6'^a^amj (CaL 391, 879)— Brazilian (Stade, 106-7). § 136.

REFERENCES. 845

Dakotahs (School. iit 19$)— Hottentots (Kol. i, 138)— Tonga (Marin, i, 88)

— New Zealand (Ang. i, 279) — Tahitians (Cook,— ) — New Zealanders
(Ang. ii, 71)— Aneiteum (Tur. "Nineteen/' 371)— Ashantis (Beech. 213)—
Sandwich Isldrs. (Cook, — ). § 137. Veddahs (Eth. 8. " Tram."
N.S. ii, 296)— *<m?o (Schwein. i, 234)— Lohaheng (Li v. "Miss. Tray." 124)
—Arawdk* (Schom. ii, 458)— Guiana (Hum. ii, 488)— Creek* (School, v,
270)— Fantees (Beech. 229)— Dahomans (Burt. "Dahomey ii, 164) — Piwa-
<amm (Landa, 196)— Caribs (Edw. i, 60)— Brazilian (Spii, ii, 250)—
Peruvians (Tsohu. ii, 393)— ^w GttitMa (Earl, " Papuans/' 86)— HAtffYmt
(Hawk, ii, 95 ; Ell. " Pol. Res." i, 519)— Sumatra (Man. 888)— Tonga
(Marin, i, 144) — Dyaks (Brooke, ii, 270)— Fijians (Wilkes, iii, 119) —
Tahitian (Ell. " Pol. Res." i, 521)— P«n»wCaiw (Acos., Jos. de, ii, 812)—
Collas (Qieza, 864)— Egyptians (Diod. 60-61 ; Mar. i, 89)— Etruria (Ferg.
" Hist, of Arch." i, 284)— Darius (Ferg. " Hist, of Arch." i, 194)— Chaldean
(Ferg. " Hist, of Arch." i, 168). § 138. Tope (Ferg. " Tree," 88 ;
Cuii. 11)— Chaitya (Cun. 9)— Tahiti (Hawk, ii, 1M)— Central Americans
(Xim. 213)— Egyptian (Wilk. iii, 85, 430)— Bedouins (Burck. i, 101; Palg.t
\V. G., i, 10)— European (Blunt, 16; Ferg. "Tree/' 89). § 139.
Lower Cali/ornians (Ban. i, 669) — Corof (Ban. i, 641) — Damaras (Ande.
222)— Vancouver Island (Rojr. G. S. xxrii, 801)— Mos quito (Ban. i, 744)—
Karen (As. S. B. xxxir, pt. ii, 196 j xxxt, pt. ii, 29) — Bodo and Dhimdls
(As. 8. B. xriii, pt. ii, 708) — Mexican (Ban. i, 641) — Puehlos (Ban. i, 555,
note)— Sea Dyaks (St. John, 8., i, 71)— Hottentot (Ande. 827)— Samoa (Tur.
u Nineteen," 349)— Fjji (See. 892)— Bhils (Roy. A. S. "Trans." i, 88)—
Araucanians (Smith, E. R, 275)— Ftrzimfterf (Drur. 406)— Berotse (Li v.
M Miss. Trar." 331)— £^r# (Gard. 314) Amazulu (Cal. 176)— £a»<ftpu*
I*. (Cook — )— Gnwib (Blackie, 48)— Agamemnon (Horn. " Iliad," bk. ii,
Lang, p. 83-4)— Amazulu (CaL 239, 197)— JTa^fr* (Shooter, 165)— Zeus
(Horn. "Iliad," bk. y, Lang, p. 66)— Athene (Horn. " Odyssey," bk. iii,
Lang, p. 46)— Sandwich Isldrs. (Ell. "Hawaii," 136>— Egyptians (Wilk. iii,
427-9). § 140. Dyaks (Low, 204)— Gold Coast (Beech. 229)— Toda
(Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. vu, 24&)— Indians (Ban. i, 126)— Bagos (Oail. i,
164)— Gold Coast (Cruio. ii, 218)— Dahomans (Burt. "Dahome," ii, 163)—
Tucatanese (Landa, 196)— Egyptians (Wilk. iii, 443)— Polynesian (Grey,
" Pol. Myth> 43). § 141. Samoa (Tur. " Hundred," 48-9)— JYnaiw
(Will., T., i, 231)— Mexicans (Clav. i, 279)— Cfctfekw (Fern. 141; Acos.,
Joaq., 2\Z)—Khonds (Camp. 211)— TahUians (ELI. "Pol. Bes." i, 488)—
Tongans (Marin, ii, 208)— Mexicans (Clar. i, 825)— Dahomey (Burt. " Pa-
hom6," ii,25)— Australia (Eth. S. " Trans." N.S. ii, 246)— Fijian (Will.,
T., i, 20)— Vateans (Enk. 334) Haidahs— (Ban. iii, 160)— Nootkas (Ban. iii,
162)— Dahomey (Burt. "DahomeV' ii, 164)— C7ywc# (Horn. "Odyssey,"
bk. xi, Lang, p. 179) — Dahomans (Burt. "DahomeV' ii, 167) — Mexicans
(Herr. iii, 210-18)— Baal (i Kings, xviii, 2S)—Nateotetains (Ban. i, 127)—
Mexicans (Men. 108)— Guancavilcas (Ciesa, 181)— £a«<iirid» J*. (Ell.
" Hawaii," 147, SO) —Peruvians (Gar. i, 118; Acos., Jos. de, ii, 309).
§ 142. Aleutian (Ban. iii, 518)— Tupis (South, i, 249)— Cali/ornians (Ban.
i, 670)— Chippewas (School. " Mississippi," 122)— Sa* Salvador (Pa la, 81)

— CAiicAo* (Sim. 259)— P*newaiu (Cieza, 865)— raAi« (Ell. "Pol. Res." l,
630)— Mandingoes (Cail. i, 344)— Egyptians (Wilk. iii, 443, 450)— Brazilian
(Heriot, 689)— Pen* (Gar. ii, 114; Pre*. "Peru," i, 30)— Amazulu (Cal.
147, 145, 289, 203). § 143. *am^W (Lir. "Miss. Trav." 605)—
Africa {Reade, 249)— Amazulu (Cal. 140)— Veddahs (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S.
ii, 801-2)— Dakotah (School iii, 226)— -BanlrV Isldrs. (Anth. i, x, 286)—
Vateans (Tur. "Nineteen," 894)— 7*a»fie«0 (Tur. "Nineteen," 88)— Chryses
(Horn. " Iliad," Lang, ok. i, p. 2) —Barneses (Records, ii, 70)— Big Veda*
note (R*j. i, 427). § 144. East Africans (Lir. —)—N. Amer. In*

846 REFERENCES,

dianS (School, iv, 65)— Turkoman* (Yam. 61)— Iroquois (Morg. 119)—

Egyptian (Wilk. iii, 430, 378)— Malagasy (Drur. 233)— Chinese (Edk. 71)

Tonga (Marin, i, 88)— Gold Coast (Beech. 190)— Nasamonians (Herod, iii,

150)— Sumatra (liars. 242)— Medieval Europe (Smith, W., " Christian," ii,

1417) — 2Vr*oma»« (Vam. 210) — toyroe* (Bas. " Mensch," iii, 148) —

Mosquito (Ban. i, 740-1) —Aztecs (Men. 108)— Blood-drinking* note (Mich.

ii, 35). f 145. Mexicans (Dur. i, 193)— £a»*afr (Hun. i, 188).

§ 14o. California (Ban. i, 400)— -SWA .4»wrica» (Ghur. i, 60 ; Bat eh. r,

67 ; Aven. — ). § 147. Judngs (Dalt. 157-8)— Fuegians (Hawk. — )

—Andamanese (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. ii, 35) — Australians (Stmt, "South

Aurtr." i. 107)— Tasmanians (Rot. S. V. D. iii, 180)— Veddahs (Eth. 8.

"Trans." N.S. ii, 301-2)— Fijian* (See. 891)— Tannese (Tur. 88)— S*»a/rojw

(Man. 289, 291)— ^»yo/a (Liy. " Miss. Tray." 4AO)—Bambiri (Lit. " Miss.

Tray." 605)— Kaffirs (Shooter, 161)— Santals (Hun. i, 182)— Khonds (Rot.

A. S. " Journal," Tii, 189)— Hindu (Fort. Feb. 1872, 133-5). § 146.

Amazulu (Cal. 63, 21, 22, 32, 8, 1, 40, 58, 35, 7, 2, 33, 18, 51, 33, 17, 91).

§ 149. Greek (Grote, i, 110)— Peru (Aven. — )— iVtcam^aiw (Ori. pt. iii,

40-43, 44, 46)—Vedic* note (Muir, iii, 332). § 150. Indra (Muir, iii,

226-27, 238)— Rig Veda (ref. lost) —Menu (Jones, iii, passim)— Jehovah

(Deuteronomy, xxvi, 14 ; Ecclesiasticus, Tii, 33 ; Tobit, iv, 17) — Yemen

(Academ. Comptesrendus— )— Arabia (Caus. i, 348-49 ; Palg., W. Ch, i, 10).

§ 151. Nicaragua** (Ovi. pt. iii, 41) — Menu (Jones, iii, 146) — Amazulu

(Cal. 2o2, 175)— Menu (Jones, iii, 147)— Iranians (Zend At. iii, 231)— Romans

(Smith, W., "Or. and Rom." 559). § 152. Catholic* note (Rock

323-4). §153. Greek (Blackie, ii)— Romans (rtf. lost)— Hebrews

(Isaiah, viii, 19 ; 1 Samuel, xxyiii, 13 ; *note, Chejne, i, 58 ; Bible

"Speaker's," ii, 858; Kuenen, i, 224). § 154. Central Americans

(Landa, 198)— Peruvian* (Yncas, 107)— Sandwich Is. (£11. "Hawaii,"

334)— Crees (Kane, 127)— Caribs (Brett, 129)— Tasmanians (Tas. Jour.

i, 253; Bon. 97)— Andamanese (ref. lost)— Lifu (Ersk. 369)— Amp

Caledonians (Tur. " Nineteen," 425)—Badagry (Lander, R., ii, 252)—

Mandans (Cat. " N.A. Indians,*' i, 90). § 155. Yucatanese (Landa,

198)— Mexicans (Nouv. 1843, ii, 202) — Yucatanese (Landa, 198)— Mexicans

(Lop. de Goni. 437). § 156. Mexicans (Clay, i, 389 ; Torq. ii, £9)—

Africa (Bas. " Af. R." 164)— Abyssinians (Parkyns, ii, 60-63)— P<qwia»

(Kolff, 62)— Javans (Raf. i, 331)— JVaaee (Mons. yi, 4; Cher, i, 458)—

Coast Negroes (Bos. 232)— Araucanian* (Smith, E. R., 309)— New Zealand-

ers (Thorns., A. S., i, 88) — Peruvians (Acos., Jos. de, ii, 312 ; Anda. 57) —

Yucatanese (Lop. Cog. i, 816). § 157. North Am. Indians (Kane,

202)— Okanogan* (Ban. i, 284)— Mandans (Cat. " N. A. Indians," i, 107)

—Madagascar (Ell. "Three Visits," ±44). § 158. Egyptians (" R«t.

Scien." 1 March, 1879)— Samoiedes (Bas. " Mensch," ii, ZTD—Ostyah*

(Erm. ii, 51; Felins. ii, 2*)— Samoiedes (Bas. "Mensch," ii, 85)— Russian*

Erm. ii, 177)— Sandwich Isldrs. (Ell. "Hawaii," 251)— Yucatanese (Fan.

307-8, S16)— Quiche* (Ban. iii, 52-3)— Arabians (Dory, i, 22)— Memnon

(Roy. S. of Lit. ii, 45)— Early Christians (Bible, " Codex Apoc." i, 670,

681). § 159. Laches (Fern. 14)— Peruvians (Arri. 11; ATen. — ;

Arri.89; Montes. 147; Yncas, 61)— Bui lorn* (Winter, i, 240, 241)— Vera

Pat (Xim. 211)— Mexicans (Clay, i, 328)— New Zealanders (White, 308).

§ 160. Bulloms (Winter, i, 222)— Congo (Pink, xyi, 168)— IAUle Addoh

(Laird, ii, 32)— Polynesia (Ell. " Hawaii," 102)— Fiji (Will., T., i, 99)—

Dakotah (School, iy, 642)— Mandans (School, iii, 248)— Indians (Buch. 228)

—Peruvians (Acos., Jos. de, ii, 3~8)—Chibchas (Sim. 249)— Hindu (" Fort."

Feb. 1872, 127). § 161. East Africa (Burt. " Cen. Af." ii, 346)—

Coast Negroes (Winter, i, 123 ; Cruic. ii, 135 ; Bas. «' Mensch," ii, 2U0)—

tfiger (Lander, B. & J., iii, 105)— Dahomey (Burt. "Dahoine," ii, 361)—

J

REFERENCES.

647

Fetich (Beech. 179-80)— Congo (Baa. " Af. R." 82). § 162. Judng*

(Dalt. 167-8)— Andaman (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. ii, 42, 35)— Damara* (R.
O. S. xxii, 169)— CAm*«ai*i* (Oar. i, 60)— Peruvian* (Gar. i, 47)— India
(Lub. "Origin," 286; "Fort." Feb. 1872, 131). § 164. Peruvian*

(Oar. i, 75 ; Cieza, ch. 90). § 165. Brazil (Burt. " Brazils," ii. 866).

§ 166. Thlinkeet* (Ban. iii, 129)— Karen* (As. S. B. xxxiv, pt. ii, 217)—
Abyssinia (Parkyns, ii, 144 5 Wilk. iii, 285)— Khond* (Oamp. 44,)—Bullom*
(Winter, i, 256)— Mexican* (Men. 109)— Honduras (Herr. iv, 141)— Chib-
chas (Sim. 245 ; Fern. SO)— Africans (Liv. " Miss. Trav." 616)— Gallabat
(Schwein. i, 307-8)— Tele (Lit. " Miss. Trav." 642)— Guiana (Brett, 874)
—Sumatrans (Mars. 292) — Apache* (Ban. iii, 135) — Califomian* (Ban. iii,
1*\)—Tla*cala (Clay, i, 243)— Calabar (Hutch. 163). § 167. Zulu*

(Cal. 130, 196, 197, 197, 198, 199, 368, 362, 202, 200, 201)— Culiacan (Ban.
i, 687)—Amazulu (Cal. 215, 200)— New Zealand* rs (Thorns., A. S., i, 29)
—Russian (ref. lost)— Babylonian* (Smith, "Ass. Pise." 191)— Animal-
Worship (" Fort." Feb. 1870, 196 ; Nov. 1869, 566). § 168. Idxubar

(Smith, "Ass. Disc." 202-3)— Ishtar (Records, i, 143)— Ventriloquists (Del
" Isaiah," i, 240)— Greek* (Horn. " Odyssey," Lang, bk. xi, p. 190)—
Philippine (Jag. 169)— Assyrians (Records, iu, 134)— Arab* (Cans, i, 349).
§169. Dakotah* (Burt. "Saints," 153)— Bongo (Schwein. i, 311)—
pamara (Gal. 132)— Abipone* (Dob. ii, 166)— South Brazil (Spix, ii, 255)
—Abiponts* (Dob. ii, 183) — Koossa (Licht. i, App.) — Guarani* (Dob. ii,
184). § 170. Australian* (Ang. i, 92)— Damara (Ande. 225)— Bodo

Sc Dhimals (As. S. B. xviii, pt. ii, 734)— Kaffir (Shooter, 219)— Comanche*
(School, ii, 132)— Chippewayan (Hearne, 93)— Bedouin* (Burck. i, 97)—
Kaffir* (Eth. S. " Trans." N.S. v, 295)— Tupis (South, i, 239)— Karen*
(As. S. B. xxxv, pt. ii, 10)— New Zealand (Ang. ii, 88)—Dakotah (Burt.
" Saints," 141)— Yoruban* (Lander, R., ii, 228)— Hottentot* (Pink, xvi, 141)
—Makololo (Liv. " Miss. Trav." 221)— K ing Koffi (Rams. 72)— Tothme*
(Records, passim) — Assyrian (Smith, "Ass. Disc." 171) — Barneses (Records,
ii, 75, 76). § 1y1. Mahomet (Kor. ch. xciv) — Central Asiatio

(Michell, 96)— Sea Dyak* (Brooke, i, 62) — Bechuana (Liv. "Miss. Tray."
XS)—Patagonian* (Falk. 114)— Columbia (Ross, "Oregon," 88)— California
(Ban. iii, 87)— Zap o tecs (Ban. iii, 74)— Haidahs (Ban. iii, 97)— Aht* (Ban.
iii, 9G)— Chippewayan* (Ban. i, 118) — Koniaga* (Ban. iii, 104) — Calif or-
nians (Ban. iii, 88, 92)— Dog-rib (Frank. 293). § 172. Papago*

(Ban. iii, 76)—Kam*chadale* (Krash. 205)— Dakotahs (Sohool. — )— Negro
(Liy. " Miss. Tray." <m)— Chippewa* (School. " Mississippi," 98-99)—
Ottyak* (Harr., J., ii, 924)— Kookie* (Ind. xxvii, 68)— Indian (Ban. iii, 93)
—Bechuana* (Liy. "Miss. Trav." 13)— Australia (Lub. "Origin," 261).
§173. Congo (Bas. "Mensch," iii, 199)— Thlinkeet* (Ban. i, 109)—
Ashantee (Rams. 306)— Madagascar (Ell. "History," i, 356)— Egyptian*
(Records, ii, 70-76, iv, 56; Brugsch, i, 74)— Veddah* (Kth. S. "Trans."
N.S. iii, 71). § 174. Aleutian* (Ban. iii, 104)— Kirghiz (" Fort."

Oct. 1869, 418)— Egypt (Wilk. iii, 812). § 175. Pacific State* (Ban.

iii, 127)— Salish, fc. (Ban. iii, 97)— Land Dyak* (St John, S., i, 196)—
Batavian* (Hawk, iii, 756). § 177. Opium-eater* (Yam. 14)— Man-

dingoes (Bas. " Mensch," iii, 194)— Arafura (Kolff, 161). § 178.

Soma (Muir, i, ii, iii, v, pa**im)—Peru (Oar. i, 88 ; Mark. "Travels," 232)
—Chibcha* (Fern. 20)— North Mexico (Ban. i, 587)— Philippine I*. (Jag.
267-9)— Soma* note (Muir, pa*sim)—Peru* note (ref. lost). § 179.

Bechuana* (Mof. 262)— Ba*uto (Cas. 240 ; Arb. 131)— Damara* (Roy. O.
S. xxii, p. 159 ; Ande. 218 ; Oal. 204, lH8)—Congoe*e (Bas. " Af. R." 81,
172). § 180. Arabic (Palg., W. O., i, 458)— Santali (Hun. i, 173)—

Kamschadales (Hill, ii, 402)— Damara* (Oal. 176)— Great Nicobar (Rttep.
76). § 161. Tasmania* (Roy. S. V. D. iii, 281)— Karen* (As. S. B.

848 REFERENCES.

xxxv, pfc. ii, 10-11)— JP. American Ind. (Cat. "N. and 8. Am. Ind." 18, H
16)—Arawdks (B.ett, 367)— Peruvians (Ciesa, 232, note 2)— Pueblo* (Ban.
iii, W)—Isanna (Wal. " Amazons " 606)— Karens (As. S. B. hit, pt. ii,
10-11). §182. Congo-people (Lub. "Origin," 28&)—Addacoodah

Lub. "Origin," 289)— Mexico (Trior, "Anahuac," 215)— Beerbhoom
Hun. i, 181)— Land Dvaks (Low, 273)— Iroquoi* (Morg. 161)— 5a»&zfr
Hun. i, 184). § 184. Jfcteor (8omer. 9)— Inland Negroes (Iir.

" Miss. Tray." ZS8)—A*hantee (ref. lost)— Bechuana (Cas. 235) — Wanika
(Krapf, 168). § 185. QjMewag (Cat. "N. and 8. Am. Ind." 19, 20)

— Karen* (As. 8. B. xxxv, pt. ii, 10) — Tasmanians (Boy. 8. V. D. iii,
281)— American (Cat. «f mpra, 20, Ac.). § 186. Poct/fc S*«*e# (Ban.

iii, 155 ; iii, 121) — Mexicans (Pros. " Mexico," ii, 41) — Peruvians (Mem.
i, 37 j Yncas, 13, 17, 25, 57, 88)— Santals (Hun. i, 186)—Araucanians
(Alcsdo, i, 416). § 187. Peruvians (Am. 81; Ben. 253)— Iroquois

(Morg. 227). § 188. Dawn-myth (Mul. " Lectures," ii, 606-13)—

Karens (As. S. B. xxxv, pt. ii, 10)— Tupis (Stade, 142)— New Zealand
(Thorns., A. 8., passim). § 189. Jews (Sup. Bel. i, 105) — Patagonians

(Falk. 116)— Fiji (Ersk. 293)— Hervey Isldrs. (Anth. I, yi, 4)— South
Australians (Ang. i, 89)— Tasmanians (Boy. S. V.D.iii, 274)— if. Americans
(Tylor, " Prim. Cult" i, 859)— Cafifomians (Robin. 259-262 ; Ban. hi,
138-9)— Amazon (WaL "Amazon," 606)— Dyak (Brooke, i, 189)— Assyrian
(Roy. A. 8. — ). § 190. Loucheux (Ban. iii, 14\)-~Esquimau*

(Hayes, 253)— &>«<A Australians (Ang. i, 89, 109) — Chibchas (Fern. 18)—
Mexican (Men. 81) — Karens (As. 8. B. xxxv, pt. ii, 10) — Aryan (Cox, ii,
139, 138). §191. Comanches (Eth. 8. "Journal," ii, 268)— C**-

chemecas (Ixt. 46)— OlcKones (Ban. iii, 16 1)— ZYimmA (Ban. iii, 142)— SaUve
(Hum. ii, 221)— Barotse (Liy. " Miss. Trav." 220)— Tlascala (Nouy. — )
— Q«tfW (Ban. iii, 60)— Mizteca (Ban. iii, 73)— Mexicans (Men. 79 ; Waits,
if, 141 ; Men. 81)— Damaras (Gal. 138, 137)— Di'mmA (Frank. 165)— Peru-
vians (Yncas, xii ; Pres. " Peru," i, 29) — Mexicans (Herr. iii, 204) — Panckes
(Herr. v, 86)— Chibchas (Sim. 244 ; Lugo, 7)— Sun (Shakesp. " Henry vih7'
act i, sc. i ; "Julius Caesar,' ' act v, sc. d)—Aloarado (Pres. "Mexico," i,
438)— Peruvians (Gar. i, 229)— Central Americans (Pop. 33)— Karens (As.
8. B. xxxr, pt. ii, 10)— N. A. Indians (Cat " N. and S. Am. Ind." 32, 14)—
Egyptian* (Brit. Mus. " Papyri," 2-3 ; Wilk. iii, 63)— Aryans (Cox, ii, 80
et seq.). § 192. Egyptians (Soc. B. A. iii. 93, 88, 93, 94 ; Records, vi,

100). § 195. Bechuanas (Thomp. i, 341)— Chippewas (Buch. 228)

—Fijian (Will., T., i, 216)— Malagasy (Ell. "History," i, 390)— Todas
(Marsh. 123-4). § 196. Todas (Marsh. 136, 14&)—Taltique (Montg.

184-&)—Kamschadales (Krash. 183). § 197. Fijian* (Ersk. 247;

Will., T., i, 283)— Tahiti (Ell. "Pol. Res." new ed. iii, 113, 114)— Benin
(Bas. " Mensch," ii, ilfy—Loango (Ast. iii, 22S)—Msambara (Krapf, 384)
— Peru (Xer. 62 ; Acos., Jos. de, ii, 483 ; Gar. i, 54 ; Bal. ch. 1) — Semites
(Palg., W. G., i, 87)— Prince of Wales ("Times" —)—Peru (Acos., Jos.
de, ii, 412) — Yucatanese (Lop. Cog. i, 818) — Mexicans (Men. 86; Waits, ir,
33)— Sandwich Isdrs. (Ell. "Hawaii," 138)— Tonga (Marin, ii, 97)— New Zca-
landers (Thorns., A. 8., i, 110)— Shoa (Harr., W. C, iii, 291)— Yoruba (Bas.
"Mensch." iii, 342) — Ramses (Records, viii, passim) — Babylonian (Smith,
"Ass. Disc." 189)— Note* Nebuchadnezzar (ref. lost). §198.

Loango (Ast. iii, 223)— Fuegians (Fitz. ii, 180)— Patagonians (Falk. 116) —
Chippewas (School, v, 149)— Cahrocs (Ban. iii, 161)— Damaras (Gal. 202,
190)— Sandwich Isdrs. (Ell. " Hawaii," 309)— Mexicans (Men. 84)— Taouism
(Edk. 59)— Scandinavian (Heims. i, 220, 218, 218-9, 224, 224-5 ; note,*
Das. lxii) — jEscvlapius (Num. ser. iii, vol. 2, 5-6) — Brazilians (Waits, iii,
417)— Chinook (Ban. iii, 95-6)— Mexican (Pres. "Mexico," i,63-4; Salia.
bk. 1, ohs. 7, 9, 37, 19, 20)— Central Americans (Lop. Cog. i, 816-17).

BEFERENCE& 84d

f 199. Bushmen (Chap, ii, 486)— African* (lav. " Miss. T»y." 271)—
Congo (Tuck. 880 ; Baa. M Af. R." 144)— JTt>ir (Lander, B. * J.,iii, 79)—
ItaAtiaiia (Thompson, i, 17])— Fulah* (Barth ii, 429)—Khond (Camp. 220)
—Nicobarians (As. 8. B. XT, 848)— JV?*m» (Ersk. 246)— imi (WaL
" Malay," ii, 263)— Dyak* (Low, 224, 247)— Mexican (Men. 81)— South
America (Hum. u, 473)— Wanika* (Krapf, 168)— £«»<*«*<!* /tAind* (Ell.
" Hawaii," 104)— Mexicans (Nouv. 1843, iii, 140)— CAifcAo* (Fern. 166).
§ 200. ThUnkeet* (Ban. i, 94,)—Mo*quiloe* (Pirn, 806-6)— Karen* (Aa. 8.
B. xiit, pt. ii, 2)—Kat*schadalss (Kots. ii, 12)— Rude Nation* (Nilsson,
211, 176)— Tupi* (South, i, 227)— Scandinavia (Heims. passim)— Greek*
(ref. loat)— Hebrew (Genesis, ri, 2). § 201. Fijian* (Will., T., i, 233,

218, 236, 21)-<7r«0*v (Horn. "Iliad" and "Odvsaey," Buckley, p**>
tim). § 202. Fijian* (See. 401)— Semitic (Palg., W. 0., i, S3)— Arab*

(Bat. 12Q)—Skaddai (Kuenen, i, 271)—Tiglath-POeeer (Roy. A. 8.— )—
^oraAaas (Genesis, zrii, 8, 7, 14; xriii, 2, 8, 6, 12). § 203. Ee*a

(Burt "Batt Af." 61)— Hottentot* (Mof. 258)—Santal (Hun. i, 181)—
Egyptian* (Ben. 86-6)— QuitM (Ban. —)—Vedic (Uuir, pa**im)— Buddha
(ref. loat)— Egyptian (Wilk. ii, 487)— Arcadian (ref. lost). §207.

i^jrico (Lop. de Gom. 350)— ^iyoZa (Liv. " Miss Tray." 440). § 218.

Sponge (Hui. 16) — Myriothela <fr Blood-corpuscle* (Brit. Am. 10,
9). § 226. <4»<iam«iMftf (Mouftt, 800)— £«fAs*t» (Licht ii, 194)—

—Comanche* (School, i, 260 ; Eth. 8. " Journal," ii, 267)— Dakotah* (Burt.
" Saints," 116 ; Cat. " N.A. Indiana," i, 209)— Karene (As. 8. B. xxxvii, pt. ii,
130)— Africa (Liv. —)—A*hante* (Beech. 86)— %yp/ (Masp. " Histoire,"
18). § 228. Cayagua* (South, ii, S73)—Patag<mians (Fits, ii, 166)—

Chinook* (Boas, "Oregon," &2)—Betuchi (Eth. 8. " Journal," 1848, i, 112)
—Gold Coast (Beech. 186)— Felatah* (Den. ii, 94). § 230. Taima

(Tur. " Nineteen Yean," 89)— lyt (Will., T.,i, 229)— Sandwich Isdrt. (Ell.
" Hawaii," 118)— New Zealander* (Thorns., A. 8., i, 116)— Kaffir* (Back. 230)
Mexico (GUv. i, 272). § 232. Fuegian* (Fits, ii, 186) -Shasta (Ban.

i, 343)— Coa*t Negroe* (Winter, i, 89)— Pern (Pres. "Peru," i, 138)—
Mexican* (Clav. i, 888)— Domini (Palg., P. " Eng. Com." pt. i, 332)— English
(Kern, ii 340 ; Bren. cxxix-xxx). § 236. Mexican* (Zur. 183)— Pern

(Pre*. " Peru," i, 188). § 241. Fiji I*. (Ersk. 467)— Samoa (Tur.

u Nineteen Tears," 271) — Loango (Pink, xri, 660, 674) — Aehantee
(Beech. 148)— Mexican* (Cortes, 69; Clay, i, 386)— Peruvian* (Gar. ii,
18). § 242. Flander* (Hallam, " Mid. Ages," iii, 824)— Engli*h

(Stubba, " Const. Hist." i. 180)— France (Fust. 7). § 245. Nagae

(As. 8. B. ix, pt. ii, 967)— Bechuana* (Thomp. i, 214)— Eastern Africa
(Burt " Cen. Af." i, 835)— Aby**inia (Parkyns, i, 218)— Bechuama* (Burch.
ii, 806-7)— East African (Burt. "Cen. Af." i, 836)— Dahomey (Burt.
"DahomeV' ii, 248; i, 280)— Aehantee (Beech. 182)— London (Beck, ii,
29-30)— Henry VIII (Smiles, i, 159)— London (Smiles, i, 204)— North-
England (Smilet, i, 160). § 246. Sandwich Isldrs. (Ell. "Hawaii,"

286)— Ftjian* (Will., T., i, 93)— Lower Niger (Allen, i, 398)— Saneanding
(Park, ii, 273-4)— Batta (Mars. 379)— Madagascar (Ell. " History," i, 332)
—Chibchas (Sim. 267)— Mexico (Clav. i, 386 ; Saha. i, 29). § 250.

Esquimaux (Hearne, 161)— Ahor* (As. 8. B. xir, pt. i, 426)— Arafura*
(Kolff, 16l)—Todas (Marsh. 41-46 ; Eth. 8. "Trans." N.8. vii, 241)— Bodo
and Dhimdla (As. 8. B. xriii, pt. ii, 746-6 ; Hodg. 166-60)— Lepcha* (Hooker,
i, 129; Eth. 8. "Journal," i, 150-1)— Carib* (Edw. i, 49; Hum. iii, 89)—
Greek* (School ▼, 279)— Taamanian* (Bon. 81)— Kamtchadale* (Kotz. ii,
13 ; Erash. 175)— Patagonian* (Falk. 123)— Samoa (Tur. " Nineteen Years,"
287, 291)— Kirghiz (Michell, 278-9)— Niamniam* (Schwein. ii, 22)
-—Aehantee (Beech. 96)— Fiji (Ersk. 464). § 251. Sandwich I*dr*.

(E1L "Hawaii," 302)— Tahiti (Forst. 855; Ell. "PoL Res." ii, 866-

3 I

850 REFERENCES.

67)— Kooeea* (Licht. i, 286)— Ashantee (Craie. ii, 242)— Arauconiax*
(Albedo, i, 406). § 252. OhmMoA J#. (E1L " Hawaii/1 402)— 2Wv

Man (E1L " Pol. Res." ii, 363)— Samoa (Tur " Nineteen Yean," 284)—
Beetjuan* (Licht ii, 829 and 298)— Joeiajriii (Borch. ii, 481)— Koossa*
(licht. i, 286)— Zulu* (Arb. 140)— Dahomey (Dak. 121 ; Bart. " Dahoin e\"
i, 63, 276)—mUiam (Stubbs, " Select Charters," 16-17). §253.

Fuegian* (Dar. iii, 238)— TVwfMmuHw (Bon. 21)— TVhmmm (Tor. c< Nineteen
Yean," 826)— Fijian* (Wilkes, iii, 832)— jr«» Zealand**-* (Thorns., A. S., i,
77)— Mexicans (Clay, i, 845)^P««M7ia»# (Gkur. ii, 119-20)— P«rria«#
(Herod, iy, 844)— Elizabeth- Cromwell (Smiles, i, 186). § 254.

Mandan* (Lew. and CI. US)— Comanche* (Marcy, 29)— Koohie* (As. S. B.
xxiv, 635)— Santafe (Hun. i, 217)— New Zealand (Ang. ii, 60)— Sandwich
Isdrs. (£11. " Hawaii/' 292)— Tonga (Wilkes, iii, 22)— Kadayan* (St. John,
8., ii, 269)— OfcoM (Wal. "Malay," i, 887)— -Eorf 4/Wca (Burt. "Cen.
Af ." ii, 866)— Inland Negro** (Allen, i, 821)— San Salvador (Pal*. 83)—
Jfirfufomctu (Bates, 274)— Patagonian* (Wilkes, i, 116)— Sakarram (Low,
184)— jDoAohmmw (Burt. "Dahome\" i, 62)— Guatemala (Xim. 208)— Jferic*
(Zur. 66-7)— France (Leys*, i, 167 ; Bourq. ii, 208-9)— English (Lap. ii,
362-8 and ii, 855-6 ; Hallam, " Con. Hist." eh. viii ; Macaulay, i, 416).
§ 259. Zulu* (Shooter, 268 ; Gard. 84)— Fijian* (Ersk. 481)— Mexico
(Clay, i, 842)— *V>» (Will., T., i, 32)— Madagascar (Ell. " History," i, 846-9)
—Dahoman* (Burt. " Dahome\" i, 220)—A*hautee (Bas. " Mensch," ii, 383)
—Mexico (Saha. iii, 1, Ac.)— Peru (Gar. i, 148)— Fijiane (Will., T., i„ 208)
—Dahomey (Burt. "Dahome*," ii, 19, 167)— Mexican* (Herr. iv, 213)—
Peru (Yncas, 64-6)— Peru (Gar. i, 182)— Mexico (Clay, i, 271)— Fijiane
(fink. 250)— roAitf (£11. " Pol. Res." ii, 208 ; Hawk, ii, 240)— Mexico
(Clay, i, 270 ; Saha. i, 277)— Peru (Gar. i, 132)— Ancient Peruvian* (Gar.
ii, 84)— Madagascar (Ell. " History," i, 197)— Peru (Gar. ii, 84)— Bgyp-
Han* (Wilk. i, 299)— Fiji (Will., T., i, 80)— Peruvian* (Gar. ii, 118)— Per-
tian* (ref. lost). § 260. Arajura* (Kolff, I6l)—Todo* (Eth. 8.

" Trans." N.S. yii, 239, 241)— Bodo % Dhimdl* (As. 8. B. xyiii, pt. ii, 741)
—Mishmis (As. S. B. xiv, pt. ii, 491, and yi, 882)— Pueblo* (Ban. i, 636,
646)— Samoa (Tur. " Nineteen Years," 287)— Phoenicia (Ezekiel, xxriii, 8,
4, 6). § 265. Bechabite (Jeremiah, xxxy, 7)—Nabat*au (Robert,

xxiii)— Hill Tribe* (As. 8. B. iv, 66)— AjHca (ref. lost)— Equatorial
Africa (Reade, 6o6)—Bechuana* (Thomp. i, 844). § 269. State*

(Plato, iii, 432 ; Hobbes, iii, ix-x). § 277. Offspring • note (Fiske,

44 Outlines," ii, 842-3). § 2v8. Chippewayan* (Hearne, 104)— Slave

Indian (Hooper, 303)— Bushmen (Licht. ii, 4S)— Queensland Australian*
(" Times," July 21, 1876)— Doyrib (Lub. "Prehistoric," 683)— Queensland
Australians ("Times," July 21, 187b) — Australians (Hit. i, 307).
§ 279. Bushmen (Spar, i, 867)— Chippewa* (Keat ii, 167)— Esquimaux
(Hall, ii, 812)— Aleut* (Ban. i, 92)— Arawdk* (Brett, 101)— Veddah* (Ten.
ii, 441)— Lower CaUfomian* (Ban. i, 666)—Todas (Eth. S. <c Trans." N A
yii, 243)— Port Dory (Earl, " Papuans," 86)— Navajo* (Ban. i, 612)—
Chippewayan* (Hearne, 813)— Psrtctft (Ban. i, 666)—Tupis (South, i, 24) —
Tcumanian* (Bon. —)—Ka*ia* (As. S. B. xiii, pt. ii, 624)— New Zealand
(Thorns., A. S. i, 178)— Tahiti (Ell. "Pol. Bes." i, SS8)—Nicaragu*ns
(Herr. iii, 340-41). § 280. Cumana (Herr. iii, 804)— Esquimaux, <fe.

(Lub. "Origin," 126)— Bushmen (Licht. ii, AS)— Greenland Esquimau*
(Lub. " Origin," 681)— Benguela (Bas. (<Mensch," iii, 921)— Mexican*
(Herr. iii, 340-41)— Darien (Ban. i, 77*)— Andaman*** (Lub. "Origin,*'
105)— Ha**anyeh (Peth. 140-4)— Cfci&eAas (Sim. 265)— Columbian* (Ban, i,
277)— Modoc* (Ban. i, S50)—Abeokuto (Burt. <c Abeokuta," i, 211)— Zambcei
(Liy. — )— Veddah* (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. ii, 293). § 281. GWfH*-

Kwyoii* (Hearne, 130)— Kadiak* (Ban. i, 81)— Karen* (As. 8. B. yii, 866)—

BEFKRENCES 851

Africa (Baa. M MenflcV' iii, 298)— Panuch*** (Olar. i, 819)— CaU (Fern.
118)— New Spain (Torq. ii, 420)— Peru (Oar. ii, 308)—S<md*rich Isdrs.
(EU. "Hawaii," 414)— Malagasy (Drur. 247)— Egypt (Wilk. iii, 119)—
Scandinavian (Heims. i, 219)— Veddah* (Kth. S. " Trans." N.S. ii, 294).
§ 282. Veddah* (Kth. 8. " Trans." N.S. ii, 298)— Aleutian (Cook, — )—
ThUnkeet (Ban. i, 110, 114)— Bachapins (Burch. ii, 662-4)— ZViAttfaiw
(Cook, — )— Jtyiaa* (Ersk. 255)— Koniaga* (Ban. i, 81)— Cfcma»a (Herr.
iii, 804)— Peruvian* (Pis. 879)— Chibcka* (8im. 255). § 284. Primi-

ftee Marriage (McLen. <( Prim. Marr." pref. v, and pp. 48, note ; 165, 138,
289, 140, 76, 159, 226, 188, 243-4, 245). § 285. Primitive Marriage

(McLen. " Prim. Marr." 188, 145, 147-8, 47-8, 144-5, 148-50, 118)145, 63-4,
Id6)—Fuegian* (Eth. 8. " Trans." N.S. i, 266)—Ta*manian* (Tas. " Jour."
i, 252 1 Lloyd, 44-6)— Australians (Mit i, 133 \ "Times," July 21, 1875)—
Dakota** (Burt. " Saints," 142)— Carib* (Hum. ii, 466)— Esquimaux (Eth.
8. " Journal," i, 147)— Todat (Eth. S. " Trans." N.S. yii, 240)— Comanche*
(Sohool. t, 688)— New Zealander* (Thorns., A. 8., i, 116)— Fuegians (Fits,
ii, 182 ; Eth. S. " Trans." N.S. i, 266)— Carib* (Hum. ii, 465-6)— Esquimaux
(Eth. S. " Journal," i, I4t7)—Warau* (Brett, 178)— Hottentot* (Pink, xri,
141). § 286. Wife-ttealing (McLen. " Prim." 138). § 287. Exo-

gamy (McLen. *< Prim. Marr." 289)— Samoa (Tur. " Nineteen Tears," 820)
—Australian (Mit. i, 830)— Carib* (Angl. B)—Mahue* (Hern. 819)— PassS*
(Bates, 848)— Dyak (Boyle, 170)— Apache* (Ban. i, 498). § 288.

Esquimaux (Crants, i, 146)— Bushmen (Burck ii, 69)— Arab* (Burck. i,
268-6)— Mumo* (Fern. 2S7)—Sumatran (Mars. 269)—Mapuches (Smith, E.
R., 2lb)—KamschadaU (Erash. 212-3)— Fuegians (Fits, ii, 182)—Arauca-
nxans (Smith, E. B., 216)—Gaudors (Eth. S. " Journal," iv, 171)— Gond*
(Jub. pt. i, 6)—MapucMs (Smith, E. B., 217-8). § 289. Mangaia*

note (Gill, 47). f 290. Primitive Marriage (MoLen. "Studies,"

pref. vY § 291. Haidahs (Ban. i, 169)— JKtf ZWfcw (ref. lost)— Eru-

lor* (Hark. 92)— 2>«4«r# (Lub. " Origin," BQ)— Andaman*** (Eth. S.
" Trans." N.S. ii, Kb)— Mantras (Eth. S. " Trans." N.8. iii, 80). § 292.
Communal Marriage (Lub. " Origin," 89, 98) — Kutchin*, Badagas, Kurum-
bah*f Keriahs, ire. (tub. "Origin," 83-4)— N. American (Lub. "Origin,"
84V— Bushmen (Lub. "Origin," e&) — Te*hur* (Lub. "Origin," 89),
S 294. Andamanete (Eth. S. " Trans/' N.S. t, 45). f 297. Fuegians

(Fits, ii, 182)— Toda* (Eth. 8. " Trans." N.S. vii, 240)— Nair* (McLen.
"Prim. Marr." 184-b)—Tahitians (Ell. "Pol. Bes." ii, 571). § 298.

Aleutian* (Bas. " Mensoh," iii, 299)— Lancerota (Hum. i, *2)—Ka*ias, Sfc.
(McLen. "Prim. Marr." 183)— Ceylon (Ten. ii, 428)— Avaroee, #c. (McLen.

"Prim. Marr." 195)— Arabia Felix (Bas. "Mensoh," iii, 298)— Hindu
~~~ ~ " (Cosar, "De Bello," bk. v. c. 14).

5 299. Toda* (Eth. S. "Trans." N.S. vii, 240)— Tahiti (ref. lost)!

(Mai. "Hist." 4fi)— Ancient Briton* (CsBsar, "De Bello," bk. y. c. 14)

I 301. Tibetan (Wils. 216-6, 216-6 ; Bogle, 123). § 302. Poly-

andry (McLen. " Prim. Marr." 245, 199, 203, 203-4)— Thibet (Penna, 71)
—Haidahs (Ban. i, 169)— Zulu* (Arb. 198)—Damara* (Ande. 176)— Congo
(Ask iii, 254)— Samoa (Tur. ".Nineteen Tears," 190)— Vera Paz (Xim.
207)— New Zealander* (Thorns., A. S., i, 178)— Mithmi* (As. S. B. xir, pt. ii,
488)— Mexico (Torq. ii, 420)— Egba* (Burt. "Abeokuta," i, 208)— Slav*
Coast (Bos. 846)— Dahomey (Burt. "DahomeV* i, 367). f 304.

Bushmen (Burch. ii, 60)— Oond* (Forty. 14&)— Veddah* (Ten. ii, 441)—
Ostyak* (Lath, i, 457)— Lifu (Tur. " Nineteen Tears," 401)— Mandingoe*
(Park, i, 26l)—Damaras (Ande. 22h)—Yakout (Lea. ii, 285)— Haidahs
(Ban. i, 169)— Comanche* (Ban. i, 612)— Nuffi (8chon, 161)— Fijian (Ersk.
254)— Mishmee (Grif. S6)—Zoo**a* (Licht. i, 261)— Java (Baf. i, 73)—
Sumatran* (Mars. 270)— Mexico (Tern, i, 210-11)— Honduras (Herr. iii,
867)— Nicaragua (OtL p. iii, 87). § 305. Apache* (Ban. i, 512)—

3 J 2

852 BEFERENCKS.

Mexico (Clar. i, 206)— Madagascar (Ell. "History,** i, 1«8)— Sort Africa*
(Burt. "Con. Af." ii, 332)—Ashantee (Beech. 124)— Gtowiw (Tac. oh.
xviii, p. 67) — Merovingian (Monteaq. i, 402) — New Caledonia (Tor. u Nine-
teen Yean," 42±)—M<tndtngo (Ceil, i, Z4ti)—Kofirt (Shooter, 79)— Chip-
pewayans (Ke»t. ii, 155) — Comanche's (Ban. i, 512) — Makololo (Lit. — ).
§ 307. Kaffirs (Licht. i, %4A)—Damaras (Ande. 228)— Zootra Kaffirs
(Licht. if 288)— Chippewa* (Eeat. ii, 171)— Ostyaks (Lath, i, 467)— Egypt
(Gor. 139)— Jforfay«*oar (Ell. "History," i, 168)— Ja>ftr»w (Miach. 201)—
Sottas (Man. 381)— Jf«A«u (As. Bee. xvii, 374)— J/riea (Monteiro, i, 241)
—HottentoU, Sfc. (Lub. " Origin," 72-3). 308. Australians (Mit. i,

134)— ffuAmm (Bar. i, 232)—Damara (Ande. 225)— A>'mm (Era*. 254)—
Tahitians (KJ1. " Pol. Bee." ii, 571)— CAiicAo* (Fern. 23)— Hebrews (Deu-
teronomy, xxi, 10-14)— Persians (Bawl., G., ir, 171)— Perwwwi (Gar. i, 310)
—Abyssinia (Bruoe, iv, 463). § 310. Hudson's Bay and Copper

Indians (Lub. "Origin," 101-2)— Bedouins (Burck. i, 112). § 311.

Land Dyaks (Low, 300). § 315. Port Dory (Earl, " Papuan*," 81)—

Dya** (Low, 195)— Fuegians (Fits, ii, 182)— Todas (Eth. 8. " Trans." N.S.
Tii, 240)— JEafntflMMC (Cranta, i, 147 ; Eth. 8. •* Journal," i, 147)— Caribs
(Hum. ii, 455-6)— Par* Dory (Earl, " Papuans," 81)— Land Dyaks (Low,
300)— Bodo and Dhimdls (Ab. S. B. xviii, pt. ii, 744)— Iroquois (Morg. 324)
—Pueblos (Ban. i, 535-49)— Dalrympfe Island (Jukes, i, 164)— HiU-Dyaks
(Low, 290)— Bodof Dhimdls (Hodg. 156-60)— Lepcha (Eth. 8. "Journal,"
N.S. i, 152)— Pueblo (Ban. i, b4S)—Fijians (Will.,T., i, 2lS)—AshanU (Beech.
122, 124)— Dahomey (Baa. "Menach," iii, 302)— PenretVuw (Gar. i, 309)—
Mexicans (Clar. i, 206, 322)— Chibchas (Sim. 254)— Nicaragua** (On. pt.
iii, S7)—Carolingian (Bouquet, xi, 88)— Toulouse (Eomigs. 68). § 31 Y.
Error, Sfc. (Maine, " An. Law," 121 ; Maine, " Ear. Inst/1 118)— Rudiments
(Maine, "An. Law," 120)— Obedience (Maine, "An. Law," 136)— Mantra
(ref. lost)— Carib (Edw. i, 4&)—Mapuchi (Smith, E. R., 231)— Brazilian
(Bates, 169)— GaUinomeros (Ban. i, 390)— Shoshone* (Ban. i, 437)— Navajo*
(Ban. i, 507-8)— CaZ*/orn*aiu (Ban. i, 413, 666)— Comanche* (Ban. i, 514)
—Bedouin (Burck. i, 355)— faciei** Societies (Maine, " An. Law," 12&-9)—
Commonwealth (Maine, " An. Law," 128)— CVerifc* (School, t, 44)8 ; t,262;
i, 27b)— Iroquois (Hind, ii, 147)— Kutchins (Ban. i, 182)— Creeks (School.
T, 273). § 318. Infancy of Society (Maine, "An. Law," 130, 124-5)

— Tahitians (Ell. "Pol. Bee." ii, 346)— Tongan* (Ersk. 15%)— Chibchas
(Fern. 23)— Iroquois (Hind, ii, 147-8 ; Morg. 84, 62, 71, 184, 314, 813)—
Coast Negroes (Bos. 203 ; Cruic. ii, 280)— Congo (Pink, xvi, 571)— Sumo-
trans (Mars. 376)— Family- Corporate, Arc. (Maine, " An. Law," 183-4, 124)
—Patria Potestas (Maine, " An. Law,'* 138, 141)— Tinneh (Ban. i, 136)—
Tutelage (Maine, " An. Law," 162-3)— Kocch (As. S. B. xriii, pt. ii, 708;
707)— Karens (As. S. B. xxxtu. pt. ii, 143)— Khasias (Eth. S. " Trans." N.S.
Tii, 308)— Sea Dyaks (St. John, S., i, 57 ; Brooke, i, 97)— Aleutian (Ban. i,
92)— Nootkas (Ban. i, 197)— Spokanes (Ban. i, 277)— Iroquois (Morg. 84,
826)— Pueblos (Ban. i, b46)—Timbuctoo (Sha. 18)— YeUala (Tuck, 180).
§ 319. Comanche* (Marcy, 20)— Hottentots (Kol. i, 300-1)— Kaffirs
(Shooter, 97-8)— Peruvians (Lop. de Gom. 234)— Coast Negroes (Bos. 203)
—Dahomey (Forb. i, 27) — Biology (Maine, "Early Inst." 118).
§320. Patriarchal family (Maine, "Early Inst." 311, 99-100)— Bul-
garians (ref. lost). — Disintegration (ref. lost). — Sclavonic (Evans, 55).
§ 321. Children ("Times," Feb. 28, 1877). § 324. Puttooahs (As.

8. B. xxt, 296)— Corea (Gutz. i, 176)— Kirghiz (Wood, 214)— Dyak
(Brooke, i, 131)— African (Reade, 366-9). § 325. Fuegians (Eth. S.

" Trans." N.S. i, 264)— Australians (Mit. ii, 346)— Haidahs (Ban. i, 167)-
Chippewayan (Hearne, 55)— Kaffir (Shooter, 84)— Chibchas (Sim. 253)—
Mandan (Cat. u N. A. Indians," i, 120)— Yucatanese (Now. 1843, i, 46)-

BEFERENCES. 853

East Africa (Burt. "Ceil. Af." ii, 332)— Jfaptr**/* (Smith, E. R., 218).
§ 326. Tasmanians (Bon. &h)—Fuegians (Fits, ii, 185-6)— A ndamanese
(Erh, S. "Trans." N.8. ii, 86)— Australian* (Mit i, Wl) — Chipfewayans
(Hearne, 90) — Comanches (School, i, 236) — Esquimaux (Crantz, l, 154) —
Tasmania* (Bon. 55)— Itomara (Gal. 197)— Tupis (South, i, 250)— South
Bratil (8pix, ii, 248)—Abipones (Dob. ii, 118)— Bechuanas (Burch. ii, 564)
— Kaffirs (Licht. i, 266)— Damaras (Gal. 157)— Outanatas (Earl, " Papu-
ans," 51)— Coroados (Spix, ii, 269)— £of»o<* (Tur. " Nineteen YearB," 196)
—Java (Baf. i, 858)— Angola (Ast. iii, 276)— Peru (Cieza, 167)— Abyssinia
(Bruce, iv, 474)— Arabs (Peth. 136)— Dahomans (Forh. i, 28)— Chippeway-
ans (8chool. t, 176)— ClaUops (Lew. & CI. U\)—Cueba (Ban. i, 764)—
Dahomey (Burt. "DahomeV' ii, 72 note)— Gonds (Foray. 148)— Pm» (Uerr.
iv, 842)— Central America (Juar. 192). § 327. Todas (Bth. S.

"Trans." N.8. rii, 242)—Bodo Sr Dhim&ls (Ab. 8. B. xviii, pt. ii, 744)—
Dyahs (St. John, 8., i, 55 ; Brooke, ii, 101)— Pueblos (Ban. i, 547, 549)—
Fijian* (Wilkes, iii, 77; Ersk. 243; See. 237)— Samoans (Tur. « Nine-
teen Tears," 280-4, 261, 264, 822, 190)— Iroquois (Heriot, 831)— Egyptians
(Ebers, 80S)— Roman (Mom. i, 71). § 328. Mediawal Europe (Maine,

"Ear. Inst." 837)— Napoleon (Leg. 171)— France (S^gur, i, 891-2)— China
(Guts, i, 294 et seq.s i, 493-4)— Japan (Alcock, ii, 143). § 329.

Lapps* note (Will., W. M.t 162-8). § 330. Andaman (Mouat, 295)

—Fuegians (Eth. 8. u Trans." N.8. i, 262)— Australians (Sturt, "Central
Austr." ii, 137 ; Eyre, i, 89 ; Ang. i, 73)— Sound Indians (Ban. i, 218)—
PiEdes (Ban. i, 436)—Macusi (Schoxn. ii, 815)— Prairie Tribes (Cat.
" N. A. Indians," i, 217)— Hudson's Bay (Heriot, Wf>)—Assinihoine (Kane,
139). § 331. Cheehemecas (Nouv. 1843, ii, 147)— Panches (Fern. 11)

— Persian (Herod, i, 277) — Hebrews (Ecclesiasticus, ch. xxx, t. 6) — Bran-
tdme (Peign. I, 296)— Chinese (Mas, i, 62). § 332. Fijian* (Will,

T., i, 181 j Ersk. 201)— Cheehemecas (Ban. i, 632)— Mexicans (Oar. i, 331)
— Perm (Gar. ii, 2Q7)—Bodo # Dhimdls (As. S. B. XTiii, pt. ii, 744, 719 ;
Hodg. 160; As. 8. B. xviii, pt. ii, 708; Hodg. lG0)—Ih/aks (Brooke, ii,
837)— Samoans (Tur. " Nineteen Years," 176, 188)— Tannese (Tur. "Nine-
teen Years," 87)— Pueblos (Ban. i, 538, 547). § 333. China (Gutz. i,
493-4-5 ; Du H. i, 278, 318)— Japanese (Mitford, i, 58 ; Alcock, ii, 242,
251) — Semites (ii Kings, iv, 1 ; Job, xxiv, 9 ; Exodus, xxi, 7 ; Ecclesias-
ticus, xxx)— Romans (Mom. i, 64). § 334. Celts (Ca»ar, "de Bello,"
bk. vi, ch. IS)— Merovingian (Pard. 465)— French (Taine, 174-5 ; 8e"gur, i,
876)— Fifteenth Century (Wright, 381-2)— Seventeenth Century (Craik, ii,
884-5). § 336. East Africans (Burt. " Cen. Af." ii, 333). § 337.
France (Kosnigs. 253 ; Thier. i, 49). § 339. Patagonian (Falk. 126).
§ 342. Mexicans (Torq. ii, l$*~e)—Koossa~Kqffir* (Licht. i, 260).

TITLES OP WORKS REFERRED TO.

Acad Academy (The). January 27, 1878.

Acad6m. ........ Academic des Inscriptions. Comptes rendu*.

Acos., Joaq. Acosta (Joaq.) Compendio historico del deseubrimtento yco*

uizacion de la Nueva Qranada. Paris, 1843, 8to.
Acos., Jos. de Acusta (Jos. de) Natural and moral history of the Indies.

Trans. (Hakluyt Soc. toL 60-1.) Lond. 1880, 2 vols.

8ro.
Adam* ........... Adams (F. O.) History of Japan. Lond. 1875, 2 vol*. 8to.

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Alf. .«......«. Alcedo (A. de) Geographical and historical dictionary of

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5 vols. 4to.
Aleook ~ Alcook (Sir B.) The capital of the Tycoon. Lond. 1868,

2 vols. 8vo.
Allen Allen (W.) and T. R. H. Thomson, Narrative of expedition

to R. Niger. Lond. 1848, 2 vols. 8vo.
Anda. ............ Andagoya (P. de) Narrative of the proceedings of Pedrarias

DavUa (Hakluyt Soc. vol. 34). Lond. 1865, 8vo.

Ande Andersson (C. J.) Lake Ngami. Lond. 1856, roj. 8vo.

Ang. Angas (G-. F.) Savage life and scenes in Australia and New

Zealand. Lond. 1847, 2 vols. sm. 8vo.
Angl Anglerius (Petrus Martyr) De rebus Oceanicis decades ires.

Colon. 1574, sm. 8vo.

Anth. I Anthropological Institute. Journal. Lond. 1871-6, vols. 1-6.

Arb Arbousset (T.) and F. Daumas, JExplor. tour to NJS. of

Cape Colony. Trans. Cape Town, 1846, 8vo.
Arri Arriaga (P. J. de) Extirpacion de la idolatria del Pirn*

Lima, 1621, 4to.

As. Res Asiatic Researches. Calcutta, 1788-1839, 21 vols. 4to.

As. S. B Asiatic Society of Bengal. Journal. Calcutta, vols. 9-35, 8vo.

Ast Astley (T.) New general collection of voyages and travels

[by J. Green], Lond. 1745-7, 4 vols. 4to.
Atk Atkinson (T. W.) Travels in the regions of the upper and

lower Amoor. Lond. 1860, roy. 8vo.
Atk., Mrs Atkinson (Mrs. T. W.) Recollections of Tartar Steppes.

Lond. 1863, sm. 8vo.
Aven Avendafto (Fern, de) Sermones de los misterios de nmestra

S. FS catolica. Lima, 1649, 4to.
Back Backhouse (J.) Narrative of visit to the Mauritius and South

Africa. Lond. 1844, 8vo.
Bak Baker (Sir S. W.) The Nile tributaries of Abyssinia. Lond.

1867, 8vo.
Bal Balboa (M. C.) Histoire du Perou [1576-86]. Trad, par

S. Ternaux-Compans. Paris, 1840, 8vo.
Baluz Baluzius (S.) Capitularia regum Francorum. Parisiis, 1667,

2 vols, folio.
Ban. Bancroft (H. H.) The native races of the Pacific stales of

N. America. Lond. 1875-6, 5 vols. 8vo.
Bar Barrow (Sir J.) Travels into the interior of Southern Africa,

Lond. 1806, 2 vols. 4to.
Barth Barth (H.) Travels and discoveries in north and central

Africa. Lond. 1857-8, 5 vols. 8vo.

Bas Bastian (A.) Africanische Reisen. Bremen, 1859, 8vo.

„ M Der Mensch in der Geschichte. Leipzig, 1860, 3 vols.

sm. 8vo.
„ ............ Beiirage zur vergleichenden Psychologic. Berlin, 1863,

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Bates Bates (H. W.) Naturalist on river Amazons. 2nd ecL

Lond. 1864, sm. 8vo.
Beck Beckmann (J.) History of inventions and discoveries. Trans.

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Beech Beecham (John) Ashantee and the Gold Coast. Lond. 1841,

sm. 8vo.
Ben. ............ Benzoni (Gir.) History of the new World. Trans. (Hak*

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BETERENCEa 855

Bible ..M...~~ BHU {The Holy) according to the authorised version, with a

commentary [" The Speaker'*"'] ; ed. by Canon F. C. Cook.

Lond. 1871-81, 11 vols. 8vo.
„ m^ 2?**/*. Cottar apocryphus Novi TeetamenH? ed. J. A. Fabri-

cUu. Hamb. 1719, 2 vols, sm. 8vo.
Ber. ............ Bernau (Her. J. H.) Missionary labours in British Guiana.

Lond. 1847, sm. 8vo.

Blackie BUokia (Prof. J. 8.) Mora Hellenic*. Lond. 1874, 8vo.

Blunt ............ Blunt (Key. J*. H.) Dictionary of doctrinal and historical

theology. Lond. 1871, imp. 8vo.
Bogle ........... Bogle (Q-.) Narrative of mission to Tibet, and journey of

T. Manning to Lhasa ; ed. by C. B. Marhham. Lond.

1878, 8vo.
Bol. ............ Boiler (H. A.) Among the Indians. Philad. 1868, em. 8vo.

Bon. ............ Bonwiok (J.) Daily life and origin of the Tasmanians.

Lond. 1870, 8vo.
Boe. ............ Bosnian (W.) Description of the coast of Guinea. Trans.

Lond. 1721, 8vo.
Bouq _.... Bouquet (Dom. M.) Becueil des historiens des Gaules et de

la France. Pari*, 1738-1866, 22 Tola, folio.
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SUBJECT-INDEX.

(For this Index the Author is indebted to F. Howabd Coxlixs, Esq.,

of Edgbaston, Birmingham.)

Abraham, conception of Deity, 406-9.

Abstract words, rude languages delicient
in, 332, 854, 359.

Abstraction, wanting in primitire man,
74, 83, 86, 89, 821, 825 9.

Accadians, hij»h status of women among,
725 ; ancestor worship by, 816.

M Acorn-shells," responsive to adjacent
life, 123.

Admiral ion, lore of, in savages, 64, 72.

JEsculapius, apotheosis of, 304.

Affection, absent among some savage*,
663 ; increased by monogamy, 672 j
probable increase of parental, 760.

Altars, genesis of, 254-7, 277, 417;
erected to Greek kings, 389.

Altruism of uncivilized, 65-9, 71, 425.

Amazulu, ancestor worship among, 281-6.

America (Ancient), retrogression in, 95.

Amphibia, cost of race -maintenance in,
596.

Amputation, a mark of mourning, 165.

Amulets, primitive belief in, 245, 765.

Analysis, for interpreting social phe-
nomena, 681, 822.

Ancestor-worship, genesis and diffusion
of, 281 -#, 418-20, 785-7,793; Calla-
way on Ainuzulu, 284-6 ; a development
of the belief that deities are transformed
ancestors, 286-9, 418; Bobadilla on
Nicaraguan, 287; among Aryan and
Semitic races, 289-94, 811 ; are it* ob-
servances moral or religious? 294;
surviving among civilized, 295-7, 418,
767 ; linguistic evidence of, 298 ; Fetich -
ism, a development of, 321 ; also
mountain wore up, 367-381, 419, 805-
7 ; root of every religion, 41 1, 426, 819 ;
animal-worship derived from, 418 ;
also nature and plant-worship, 419;
impeded by promiscuity, 6-57 ; favoured
by descent through males, 660, 666;
and by monogamy, 671 ; causes cherish-
ing of male issue. 736, 743 ; snake form
of, among the Moquis, 797 ; and
Anciem s, 798 ; development of Russian,
801-3; private character of Iranian,
811; Aryan and Semitic, 811, 813, J

817 ; Grecian practice of, 8i3 ; and
Egyptian, 814.

Animals, super-organic evolution shown
by, 6 ; changed by social evolution, 10 ;
social effects, 31 -5 ; the one group of
primitive classification, 123; primitive
belief that they have soul*, 176-8, 179,
419; ard that, ancestors were, 335-7,
845, 419 ; misinterpretation of names a
cause for kindly treating, 337-9, 344;
and for attributing human ancestry
to, 3>6, 419, 791-6; physiological
division of labour in evolving, 439-41 ;
differences of size in higher, 452 ;
merging of minor individual ties in
evolving, 453 ; similar early develop*
ment of all, 479 ; dependent on en-
vironment, 486 ; behoved to cauvo
stoi m«, 768 ; and eclip e«, 769 ; and
earthquakes. 770 ; genesis of Fetichisui
elucidated by, 787*9.

Animal- worship, the belief in metempsy-
chosis, 322-5, 845, 419 ; caused by
animals frequenting locality of dead,
328-31, 796; linguistic indefiniteness
favourable to, 339-41, 346, 419, 795 ;
of compound animals, 341-5 ; grades
in development of, 343-5; precedes
Totetnisin, 346.

At i mute and Inanimate (we Lift*).

Annulota, size of iniividuals in, 452 ;
orgauic integration, 454 ; increasing
dependence of pens, 474; alimentary
and regulative system, 490; nervous
centralization in higher types, 513, 515,
*517 ; two nervous systems in high* r
member 4, 529 ; metamorphoses in, 56 K

Anthropomorphism, universality of, 40 J-
11, 420.

Apathy of primitive man, 55-9, 425.

Apoplexy, primitive interpretation of,
144, 149, 414.

Apotheosis, in India, 284; among ancient
rae«, 3S8 91, 421 ; in Polynesia,
803-5, 806.

Apprentices, their place in industrial
development, 470.

Arabs, ancestor- worship among, 203.

870

SUBJECT-INDEX.

Art, a sociologic study, 431.

Arvans, ancestor-worship among, 289-94,
811.

Astronomy, a conception of duality in-
duced by phenomena of, 105-8, 119 ;
the sky, stars, &c., as conceived by
primitive man, 371-3. 419.

Aurora Boreal is, primitive interpretation
of, 766 ; belief of Esquimaux concern-
ing, 807.

Australian tribos, retrogression of, 96.

Barnacles, metamorphoses of, 111.

Bats, thought to be transformed men,
328-31, 345, 419, 798.

Bear, myth of the Great-, 836.

Belief, intellectual development favour-
able to modifiability of, 74 ; Egyptian,
110 ; incongruities of, 102-5, 113, 169 ;
prepossession nine points of, 221 ; in
amulets and charms, 245, 765 ; con-
forms to law of evolution, 421-3, 821,
8*9.

Bigamy in Germany, 680.

Birds, super-organic evolution shown by,
6 ; primitive ideas of egg-development,
111; cost of race-maintenance, 596}
cause storms, 768.

Blood, primitive interpretation of uncon-
sciousness from loss of, 146, 414 ; sup-
posed community of nature from swal-
lowing, 276 ; shows relation between
life of aggregate and of components,
442 ; heterogeneity in higher animals,
501 ; organic competition for, 503 ;
action of nerves on circulation of, 534.

Blood-offerings, a funeral rite, 165 ; also
religious, 265-7, 277, 417.

Bobadilla, Friar, on Nicaraguan ancestor-
worship, 287.

Bones, evidence of prehistoric man, 37-9,
42-5, 51 ; the soul thought to dwell in
those of the dead, 301.

Booking-office, derivation of, 833.

Brain, analogous to legislative body, 519,
520.

Breath, identified with soul, 175, 176.

Burials (see Funerals).

Burke, derivation of, 834.

Cajtboc legend of coyote among stars,
372, 769.

Callaway, Bishop, on Amazulu ancestor-
worship, 284-6.

Callousness, varies with the individual,
449.

Cannibalism, increased by belief that
qualities are appropriated by eating,
241 ; human sacrifices to the dead of,
263-5, 417; loyalty of people prac-
tising, 512.

Catalepsy, primitive interpretation of,
144, 149, 414.

Catholicism, an incongruity of, 169;
belief in close communion of the two
lives, 192, 197; and in divination, 237 ;
and exorcism, 239; ancestor- worsltip
in, 296; care for souls of the dead,
297 ; anthropomorphism of, 410.

Causation, ideas of, wanting in primitive
man, 84, 90, 767 ; increased by civiliza-
tion, 221.

Cave- burials, 206-8; temples developed
from, 250 ; cause belief in bats and owls
being transformed men, 328-31 , 345.

Caves, the dead thought to dwell in, 200,
213; cause belief in an under- world,
204; regarded as places of creation,
352.

Cemeteries, sacredness of, 274, 277, 417.

Cereari*, reproduction of, 595.

Charms, primitive belief in, 245, 765.

Chastity, lightly esteemed by savages,
604,609.

Chiefs, selected for warfare, 610-13;
locally superior to king, 514; indue*
trial restrictions of, 530.

Children, feelings of the uncivilized for,
66; mentally similar to uncivilised.
88-91 ; primitive ideas and mental
aspect of, 108; regard shadows aa
entities, 114; do not mistake animate
and inanimate, 129; names changed
to alleviate disease, 242; " Children
of the Sun," 3; 8, 420; aid parental
welfare, 599, 760; effects of pro-
miscuity, 638; and polyandry, 647,
631 ; inherit wives of father, 650 ;
effect of polygyny, 660-2, 666; and
monogamy, 670-2; independence of
uncivilized, 683 ; regime of adult not
adapted to. 707-9, 712 ; status of on-
civilized, 733-5, 743 ; primitive desire
for male, 735-7, 743; effect of mili-
tancy and industrialism on, 737-9,
741-3, 744; political and domestic
absolutism, 739-41, 744; few reared
by the uncivilized, 746 ; probable
future status, 764, 758-60; their
right education a high female func-
tion, 757 ; believe in dreams, 773.

China, status of women in, 730 j end

SUBJECT-INDEX.

871

parent* and children, 739 ; male i? sue
desired in, 736.

Cilia, show relation of aggregate life to
components, 442.

Circumcision, imposed by superiors, 407.

Classification, erroneous, 99-105 ; the
two groups of primitive, 123 ; organic
and super-organic, 637; of scci.ties,
summary, 538-44, 662, 583.

Climate (see Meteorology).

Clothes, supplied to tho dead, 185, 415,
818 ; mode by males, 719.

Clyde, Lord, and tribal name, 793.

Cora, regarded with reverence, 850;
Peruvian consumption cf, 351.

Cochin-China, date of All-Soul's feast in,
800.

Calenterata, difference of size in, 452;
organic integration, 453 ; structural
heterogeneity, 462 ; independence of
parts, 474, 475 ; two layers in, 480 ;
distributing system, 482, 494; slow
adjustment to external actions, 521 ;
reproduction, 694.

Coherence, trait in primitive theory of
things, 421-3 ; and in social and indi-
vidual growth, 457 ; and evolution,
584 ; and domestic relations, 641.

Coma, primitive interpretation of, 145,
149, 414.

*' Communal marriage/' 632.

Competition, individual and sosial, 502-4,
506*

Comte, A., society as conceived by, 579 ;
fctichism of the higher animals, 787.

Concussion, primitive interpretation of,
146, 149, 414.

Conservatism of uncivilized andjcivilized,
70.

Coral Islands, social progress in, 26.

Courtship among uncivilized, 721, 723.

Coyote, legend of the, 372.

Credit, organic analogy of, 584.

Cremation, ashes of the dead supplied
with food, 156; thought to prevent
resuscitation, 167, 779 ; Bishop Words-
worth on, 167; affects idea of the
after life, 195; adapted to idol-wor-
ship, 802, 320.

Cruelty of the uncivilized, 67-9, 714.

Curiosity, absent in primitive man, 86, 90.

Dawv, worship of the, 868-71, 384, 419.

Dead, t he, attempts to revive, 153-5, 166 ;
spoken to, 153-5, 166 ; thought to
desire food, 155-9, 166, 171, 252, 257-

61, 277, 415, 417, 779, 786, 801. 812,
813 ; and breathing-space and warmih,
15S, 166, 273, 277, 803 ; varied means
for resuscitating, 159-62, 166 ; rites to
propitiate, 163-6 ; beliefs in resuscita-
tion compared, 166-8, 414 ; illogicali-
ties concerning, 169 ; belief in after
material appearance, 170-2 ; have no
shadow, 175, 820 ; chaotic ideas of after
state, 181 ; supplied with weapons,
clothes, jewels, cattle, etc., 184-6, 205,
415, 813 ; with wires, friends, and ser-
vants, 186-9, 551, 766, 782, 801 ; pro-
perty burnt, 195 ; dwell in mountains
or caves, 200, 204, 213, 415 ; direction
of abode, 202, 213, 415 ; thought to be
across water, 206-8, 213, 415; and
increasing vagueness in localization,
214 ; names avoided, 242, 273 ; power
inherent in parts of, 241, 779, 781 ;
sentiments occasioned by, 249, 254,
277, 417, 823 ; sacrifices develop from
supplying food to, 257-61, 277, 417 ;
human offerings of cannibals to, 263-5,
417; praised at funerals, 268-70,
277, 417; belief in their know-
ledge of the living, 272; sacredncB
of cemeteries, 274, 417 ; com-
munity of nature from swallowing
parts of, 275 ; development of funeral
rites into worship of deities, resume,
276-9, 417 ; wishes of, kept sacred,
296; care displayed by peasants
for, 297; belief in their conscious-
ness, and power of relics, 800-2, 418,
779; stones placed in mouths of,
311 ; animal- worship aided by animals
frequenting locality of, 328-81, 796 ;
thought to return to fatherland, 40" ;
fear of, originates religious control,
426 ; living infants buried with, 731 ;
suicide to accompany, 766; care for
comfort of, 778; Esquimaux ideas
concerning, 807.

Dead, worship of (see Ancestor-worship).

Death, illogicalities concerning, 104 j
life distinguished from, 151 ; thought
to be long suspended animation, 152,
166, 778; and to originate super-
naturally, 230-2, 416, 781 ; dwellings
deserted after, 250; cheerfully expected
by the uncivilized, 766\

Decoration, love of, in the uncivilized, 64.

Definiteness, trait of social evolution,
684 ; and evolving domestic relations,
611, 070.

872

SUBJECT-INDEX.

Deity, The, rhumi of development of
funeral rites into worship of, 276-9,
417 ; " god " applied by the uncivii-
ized to incomprehensible objects, 386,
411 j development of the idea of, 387,
411, 420, 772 ; king or ruler regarded
as, 383-91, 411, 421 ; also men of
superior power, 391-8, 411, 420, 421,
804 ; and conquering races, 398-401,
411 ; development of Grecian and
Fijian pantheons, 401-4, 804 ; Hebraic
conception of, 404-9, 817 ; universality
of anthropomorphism, 409-411, 420 ;
beliefs conform to law of evolution,
421 j Max Muller on primitive con-
ceptions of, 821, 828.
Delirium, primitive interpretation of,

226, 232.
Desertion of aged by the uncivilized,

734.
Development, a social and organic
trait, 437, 450; similarity of social
and organic, 467-72 ; summary of
social, 581.
Dew, -primitive interpretation of, 101.
Digestive organs, size in primitive man,

45, 51. (See a' so Plmiology.)
Dionysus, identified with Osiris, 274.
Disease, belief in supernatural origin,
228-30, 232, 238-40, 248, 270, 277,
416, 464, 784, 803, 816 ; names changed
to alleviate, 243 ; primitive belief in
sorcerer's power over, 213, 416 ; vica-
rious actioiis occasioned bv, 476;
attributed to absence of soul, 777.
Distributing system, development of the
social and individual, 482, 491-8;
and similarity between, 433-5 ; neces-
sary to sustaining and regulating sys-
tems, 493 ; increased communication
characterizing evolution, 498-500,
505 ; also heterogeneity, 501, 505 ;
anilogies between the social and indi-
vidual, from competition, 502-4, 506 j
summary of social, 582.
Divination, belief in superhuman origin,

236.
Division of labour, social, a sooiologic
study, 429 ; trait of social and organio
bodies, 439-41, 450, 464-72 ; in eccle-
siastical structures, 464 ; social evolu-
tion marked by female, 717-22.
Divorce, primitive facility of, 602-4, 632 ;
influences affecting, 669 ; division of
property ou, 691 ; probable future of,
753.

Dog, ch«nging emotions of, 69 ; illogi-
cality concerning, 104 ; behaviour to
motion implying life, 125 ; a human
ancestor, 342 ; sense of ownership,
633 ; dread of the unknown, 767 ;
causes eclipses, 769; fetichism illus-
trated by, 787-9; transformed man,
328,345.

Drainage, social effects of, 10.

Dreams, food a cause of, 133, 261 ;
primitive interpretation, 133-6, 4)6,
413, 420; and belief in, 137-9, 413,
772, 773 ; suggest an after life, 182 ;
and remote other world, 201 ; concep-
tions of deity and ghosts originate
in, 772.

Earth, the, social effects of surface-
configuration, 23-7, 425, 451; and
fertility, 27-9, 425 ; Esquimaux ideas
concerning, 807.

Earthquakes, architectural type induced
by, 34; primitive interpretation of,
217, 770.

Echo, primitive interpretation, 118, 120;
413.

Eclipse, primitive interpretation, 769,

Eestasv, primitive interpretation, 145,
149.'

Education, ignorance of mental develop-
ment displayed by present, 96 8;
and errors resulting, 412 ; enforced in
England, 573, 574 ; by the State, is it
a normal progress ? 705-7 ; a high
function to which no man has yet
risen, 752; importance of rational,
760.

Effigies of the dead, idol-worship a de-
velopment of their worship, 303, 320,
418 ; supplied with food by the civil-
ized, 304, 418 ; thought to be ghost- in-
habited, 304-9, 418; supplied with
food by uncivilized, 307, 418.

Eggs, primitive ideas of development
from, 111.

Ego-altruism of tho uncivilised, 63 5, 71,
425.

Egyptians, credulity, 110; high female
status, 726 ; ancestor-worship among,
814.

Elohim, interpretation of, 299, 406.

Embalming traought to aid resuscitation,
163, 166.

Embryology, spinal development, 4'3,
472; similarity of social and organic

SUBJECT-INDEX.

873

development, 467-72 ; and early de-
velopment of all animal?, 479 ; physio-
logical unift as affecting fertility, 561 ;
•©rial and indiridual analogies, 577;
cost of reproduction, 592 j and specics-
niaintenance, 594-8.

Emotions, evolmion of, 53-5; control
shown by primitive man, 55-9.

Endogamy, defined, 611 ; coexisting with
exogamy, 618, 620, 623 ; cause favour-
ing, 627-9 ; higher domestic relations
characterized by, 629.

Endurance of uncivilized and civilized,
47, 52.

Energy, effect of climate on, 23, 425.

England, former independence of county
governments in, 491 ; evolution of
roads, etc., 496; also markets and
fairs, 500; prime minister develop-
ment of justiciar, 518 ; industrial re-
strictions, 532 ; industrialism favour-
able to freedom, 555; admixture of
Aryans in, 561 ; redevelopment of
militancy, 568- 75 ; fraternal poly-
andry, 644; status of children, 742,
743 ; weight of parental authority,
742.

Emtotoa, reproduction in, 594.

Epilepsy, primitive interpretation, 221,
232, 416.

Epithelium, shows relation of aggregate
to lires of component*, 412.

Etymology, specimens of false, 831-6.

Europeans deified by the uncivilized,
396, 398; in India and China, 811.

Evolution, the three kinds, 3; super-
organic defined, 4 ; and illustrated by
insects, 4-6 ; and birds and mammuls,
6 ; does not imply tendency in every-
thing to become higher, 93; charac-
terized by retrogression, 93-6 ; pheno-
mena cannot be arranged in serial order,
223 ; primitive theory of things con-
forms to law of, 421 -3 ; generalizations
from social classifications, 543, 562;
rigidity following social and indivi-
dual, 576-8 ; social development sup-
ports law of, 584; lessened cost of
species-maintenance characterizing,
597; prolonged infancy in higher
races, 600 ; domestic relations conform
to law of, 641 ; also developing socie-
ties, 699 ; and families, 745-8 ; extinc-
tion of lower forms not involved by, 751.

Evolution, social, factors of, 9-15, 425 ;
effect on climate, 10; also flora and k

fauna, 10; reciprocal influence of
society and units, 11, 14; of neigh-
bouring societies, 1 1, 14; and of artificial
products, 12-14 ; effect of local condi-
tions greater in earlier stages, 35 ; why
has it made such little progress ? 36 ;
the inadequate knowledge of the past,
87-9 ; species maintenance, 597 ; pro-
longed infancy, 600; not necessarily
marked by higher domestic relations,
607-10.

Excitability of primitive man, 55-9, 425.

Exogamy, defined, 611 ; prevalence, 614;
co-existing with endogamy, 618, 620,
628 ; war a cause of, 619-22 ; cau-cs
favourable to, 627-9 ; associated with
lowest political and donatio life, 629.

Exorcism, believed by uncivilized and
civilized, 237-40, 243, 416.

Explanations, ready acceptance of proxi-
mato, 103.

Fa cross of social evolution, 9-15, 426.

Fainting, primitive interpretation of,
143, 147, 414.

Fairs, development of, 499.

Family, the, ideal, 5U9 ; primitively
almost unknown, 602 ; Maine on
earliest state of, 681-92, 711 ; patri-
archal type of, 692-701, 711 ; disinte-
f ration of, shown by social evolution,
01-5, 712 ; is there a limit to present
disintegration ? 705-7 ; the rSgime ill-
adapted to the State, 707-9, 712 ; law
of evolution supported by development
of, 745-3 ; and the state, the ethics
contrasted, 758.

Fasting, developments of, 261-3, 277, 417.

Females {see Women).

Fertility, social effects, 27-31, 425 ; ef-
fect on stature, 41 ; aud of varied,
physiological units, 561.

Fetich- worship, development of, 809-12,
320, 418, 787-9 ; the contained spirit
worshipped, 312-4, 321, 418, 789 ; pre-
ceded by ghost-theory, 315-18.

Fiji, pantheon of, and of Greece, 401-4,
804 ; apotheosis in, 804.

Fire, the dead thought to require, 158,
166, 177 ; in temples a development of
grave-fire, 273, 277 ; used for signal-
ling, 522.

Fish, species-maintenance in, 596, 597 s
thought to cause eclipses, 770.

Fisko, J., on prolongation of infancy,
GOO.

874

SUBJECT-INDEX

Flcay, P. Ck, waking-visions of, 775-7.

Flood, Babylonian, heaven considered
territory of conquering race, 209.

Flora, effect of social evolution, 10 ; and
on social evolution, 29-31, 425 ; belief
in plant-souls, 176-8, 419; veneration
for poisonous plants, 350 ; organic in-
f egration of, 453 ; sustaining system
dependent on environment, 486.

Food, amount consumed by uncivilized,
45-7 ; strength in Que need by, 4S ; ef-
fect of insufficient, 71, 236, 503;
analogy of bodily to mental, 77-80;
cause of dreams, 133, 261 ; the dead
thought to require, 155-9, 166, 171,
252, 265, 257-61, 277, 415, 417,
HOI, 812, 813 ; cannibalism and
belief in community from similar,
241, 275 ; developments of religious
fasting, 261-3, 277, 417; effigies of
the dead supplied with, 304, 307, 418 ;
fetiches thought to require, 315, 418 ;
productive of sleep, 503 ; as affecting
infanticide, 611 ; war caused by steal-
ing, 627 ; affects social distribution,
692 ; obtained by women, 717.

Forbidden fruit, interpretation, 351, 815.

Fossils, primitive interpretation, 108-10,
120, 309.

France, industrial restrictions, 531 ;
social gradations, 547 ; military or-
ganization of regulations, 551 ; regime
established by war, 568 ; status of
women, 729 ; and children, 741 ; mili-
tancy and industrialism, 750.

Fravashis, the, worship of, 809-11, 816.

Frost, misconception of, 100.

Function, correlated to structure, 526.

Funerals, rites of the uncivilized, 163-6,
801 ; cost of, 185, 262 ; burying alive,
189, 734, 766; cause desertion of
towns, 199, 250-2; cave -burials, 206-
8; canoe- burials, 206-8; rites par-
alleled by religious rites, 263-8 ; the
dead praised at, 268-70 ; development
of mourning into religious rites, 273,
417 ; images of the dead used at, 303.

G\ikty of the uncivilized, 60, 71.
Generalization, absent in primitive man,

79, 83, 85, 89, 821, 825-9 ; and also in

language, 332.
" Genius, eccentricity of," 80.
Germany, political centralization, 515 ;

coercive ritfime^ 568 ; bigamy in, 6S0 ;

status of women, 729; and children, 742.

Gesticulation, primitively necessary, 134.

Ghosts, illogicality concerning, 104;
varied ideas of, 172-4, 414 ; thought
to frequent locality of first life,
198, 415, 801, 805 ; their number,
215-7, 312, 321, 416, 421, 789,
816 ; natural phenomena attributed
to, 217-20, 416, 785, 805 ; also human
failures and successes, 220 ; universal
action of, 221, 416; superhuman,
strength, 234, 416 ; thought to inhabit
effigies, 304-9, 418; fetichism, de-
velopment of belief in, 309-12, 315-8,
321, 418, 789; and animal-worship,
346, 419 ; and plant- worship, 359, 419 ;
mirage attributed to, 766 ; deity a de-
velopment of belief in, 772, 817;
Indian worship of, 785, 787; pre-
sent in stones, 789-91 ; origin of
Russian ancestor-worship, 801-3.

God (tee Deity).

Gods, primitive conception of, 234, 803 ;
"and men/' tradition of, 398-401,
815.

Government, a sociologic study, 426-31;
assumed early existence, 687 ; develop-
ment of (see Regulating system).

Graves, human sacrifices at, 186-9, 551,
766, 782 ; the origin of temples, 250-
4, 277, 417, 781 ; pacredness, 274, 277,
781, 805 ; quitted by the dead, 779.

Gravestones, sacredness implied by, 249 ;
permanency given to praises by, 269$
snakes represented on, 793.

Greece, terrestrial heterogeneity, 27;
kings deified in, 390 ; Athenian indus-
trialism, 554.

Greeks, the, belief in dreams, 138 ; ideas
of ghosts, 173; and after life, 190,
192, 193 ; belief in supernatural
agents, 220, 235 ; and inspiration,
233 ; name Osiris, 274 ; ancestor-wor-
ship, 2S6, 812, 813; fcu>«» and 6rf?
synonymous, 298 ; Grecian and Fijian
pantheons, 401-4, 804; mortality of
their gods, 410; wife-stealing, 620;
kinship through males, 637 ; funeral
sacrifices, 782; stones thought to be
ghost-inhabited, 790.

Growth, cause and consequence of social
progress, 11, 14; early completed in
the uncivilized, 51; primitive ideas,
110-14; a social and organic trait,
437, 450, 451 ; social and individual
integration of, 452-7 ; and coherence,
457 ; summary of social, 531.

SUBJKCT-INi>EX

875

IT a des, nature *f, 829.

Hair, cutting off, a funeral rite, 164:
also religious, 267, 277, 279 ; supposed
power in, 243.

Hnoma, identical with soma, 330.

Hardiness of civilized and uncivilized,
4S, 52, 425.

Hearing of the uncivilized, 75-7.

Heart, the, the other-self, 174 ; vascu-
lar nystem analogous to social distri-
buting system, 406-8; evolution in
mollusca, 513; affected by nervous
systems, 528.

Heat, social effects, 18, 425; the dead
supplied with, 158, 166, 171.

Heaven, territory of conquering nice,
209 ; in the sky, 209-13. (See also
World, the other.)

Hebrews, the, belief in dreams, 138 ;
and supernatural beings, 173, 246 ;
after life, 190, 192, 194 ; cave-burials,
205, 256 ; exorcism, 239 ; fasting a
funeral rite, 262 ; self-bleeding, 267 ;
religious offerings, 272 ; name of deity
avoided, 274 ; ancestor-worship, 292 ;
"god" and "ghost" synonymous,
2;>8; interpretation of "forbidden
fruit," 351, 815; conception of deity,
401-9, 817; integration affected by
war, 511 ; Semitic varieties, 560 ; poly-
gyny, 652 ; plurality of wives, 656,
6u7 ; " raise up seed to his " dead
brother, 661 ; status of children, 740 ;
atones thought to be ghost-inhabited,
791 ; animal-naming, 791-3 ; " the
spirit of the Lord," 816.

Height of civilized and primitive man,
40-2, 49, 51, 425.

Heimtkri*gl<i, The, Tylor and Dasent on,
393.

Heterogeneity, in evolution of prim it ire
ideas, 421-3 ; in social and orgnnic
growth, 459-61.

History not divisible from legend, 821,
829.

Hobbes, T., on the State, 579, 580.

Home-sickness of the uncivilized, 201.

Huxley, Prof. T. H., antiquity of negro
race, 16 ; on sponge, 442.

Hybrids, worship of, 341-3, 846.

Hypotheses, value, 121 ; diverting effect,
766.

Hysteria, primitive interpretation of,
225, 232, 347, 416.

Ldol8, cause of war, 266, 548 ; develop-

ment of worship, 202, 303, 320, 418;
aided by belief in effigies containing a
gho«t, 304-9, 321, 418.

Imagination of primitive man, 87, 824,
829.

Imitativeness and originality, 80-2.

Improvidence of uncivilized, 59-61, 71,
72, 425.

Impulsiveness in primitive man, 55-9,
66, 72, 425.

Independence, of uncivilized, 61-3, 425,
683 ; and industrialism, 552-7.

India, effect of animals in, 32 ; develop-
ment of topes, 255 ; apotheosis in, 283,
785; fetich- worship, 317; Prince of
Wales in, 390 ; belief in Bhtttas, 783 ;
new cults, 787.

Indolence of uncivilized, 59, 63.

Industrialism, and militancy, 514, 662,
580-8 j voluntary co-operation of, 552-
7, 657, 749 ; causes obscuring, 557-9 ;
probable future social type, 563 ; effect
of developing, 577 ; summary, 583 ;
H. Marion's criticism, 586-8; and
monogamy, 674-80, 710; and status
of women, 722-S, 731, 748-51, 755-8 %
and children, 737-9, 741-3, 744.

Industry, of uncivilized, 59 ; inheritance
of trades, 468 j rapid development,
471 ; dependent on natural conditiors,
483, 491 ; primitive restrictions, 530,
550; social evolution favourable to,
532.

Infancy prolonged in higher races, 600.

Infanticide, of uncivilized, 67, 599, 696,
734,735,738,740,786; McLennan on
female, 611, 616, 618 ; not a cause of
polyandry, 644.

Ingenuity of primitive man, 87.

Inquisitiveness absent in primitive man,
86,90.

Insanity, primitive interpretation of, 227,
232, 243, 347, 416.

Insects, super-organic evolution not
shown by, 4-6 ; social effects of, 32 ;
metamorphoses of, 111, 564; mimicry,
112; responsire to adjacent life, 124;
transformed men, 328, 345 ; nervous
system, 515 ; reproduction, 595.

Inspiration, believed bv uncivilized and
chilized, 234-6, 248, 416, 786 ; intoxi-
cation attributed to, 347, 359, 419, 800.

Integration, of primitive ideas, 421-3;
of growth, 451-7 ; of social evolution,
584; monogamy favours domestic,
670.

870

SUBJECT-INDEX.

Intoxication, attributed to inspiration,

347, 359, 419, 800.
Invention absent in primitive man, 87.
Iranians, the, religion of, 808-11, 816.
Ir««n industry, heterogeneity of evolution,

465 ; extension, 491; direct evolution,

602.

Japan, industrial restrictions, 550;

status of women, 730; and parents

and children, 740.
Justice, in primitive man, 72, 690.

King, the, regarded as deity, 388-91,
411, 421; inferior to chief, 511;
governmental evolution from, 517-21 ;
identity of political and ecclesiastical
head, 548; married to near relations,
ft 6 ; succession through females, 660.

Kinriiip through females, 612, 686, 691 ;
effect of exogamy, 629; and promis-
cuity, 635-7 ; unconsciousness of male
kinship not implied by, 637, 792 ;
varied phases, 707, 711 ; cause of
female chieftainship, 715.

Einship through males, result of poly-
gyny, 658, 660 ; Maine on, 6h6, 710 ;
pastoral life favourable to, 693, 698,
711 ; varied phase*, 707, 711 ; recog-
nition of motherhood not excluded by,
793.

Labour, division of (*ee Division of
labour).

Lamps (see Fire).

Language, of insects, 6 ; a social factor,
13 ; belief in dreams aided by, 134 ;
interpretation of swoon in modern, 144,
146, 148, 150; ghosts, white men,
Europeans, etc., synonymous among un-
civilized, 171, 240 ; soul, shadow, ghost,
etc., synonymous, 176 ; gives clue to
belief in two after- worlds, 208 ; '* na-
tural " primitively unknown, 215, 222 ;
tribes without words god, angel, devil,
283; indefiniteness of Sanskrit, 288,
6*6, 829, 830, 836 ; theory of ancestor-
worship supported by, 298 ; odour,
perfume, breath, spirit, etc., synony-
mous, 311 ; primitive indefiniteness,
821-3, 362 ; development of proper
names, 333-5; errors from using
animal names, 335-7, 419 ; hybrid-
worship aided by, 341-6 ; and plant-
worship, 353, 359, 419 ; abstraction
absent in primitive, 354, 859; aids

belief in animal- and plant -ancestry,
355-7, 359, 419 ; and nature- womhip,
360-4, 384, 419; reference of birth
names to incidents of moment, 364,
375, 419 ; aids mountain-worship, 366,
384, 419 ; and sea-worship, 367, 384,
419 ; and dawn-worship, S68-71, 384,
419; and star-worship, 371-3, 419;
and moon-worship, 374, 384, 419;
and sun-worship, 377-84, 419 ; primi-
tive applications of "god," 386, 411,
420 ; and '* men." 309 ; interpretations
of Elohim, Adonai, etc., 406; a
sociologic study, 430 ; effect on dis-
crete social aggregate, 447 ; street
names, 469 ; indefiniteness of Fijian,
804; "fruit" and "eating," 815;
Max Muller on influence of, 820 ;

Ssychologio aid to, 820, 828; Max
[tiller on personalization of abstract
nouns, 825-9; Odin, 830; verbal
transformations, 831-3; derivation of
book i i g -office, navvy, burke, and post,
833-5 ; Max Muller on supernatural
origin of, 837.

Lapps, the, moral nature of, 732.

Law, intellectual development necessary
to form conception of, 74.

Legend, not divisible from history, 821,
829 ; origin of primitive, 825.

Letters, social effects of, 523.

Liberalism defined, 573.

Life, effects of temperature on, 17-20 ;
implied by motion, 125-7, 768 ; not
mistaken by primitive man, 127-31 ;
distinguished from death, 151 ; incon-
gruous beliefs in future, 181 ; the
dead appearing in dreams suggest
future, 182 ; belief in similarity of
present and after, 183, 184, 189-91,
196, 415, 803, 805 ; weapons, clothes,
etc., supplied for the after, 184-6, 415 -,
also companions, 186-9 ; closeness of
communion between present and after,
191, 197, 415, 813; and their ethical
aspect, 192-4, 196 ; conceptions
changed by advancing knowledge,
194-7; both pasced in same locality,
198, 415 ; mountains or caves locality
of future, 200, 213, 415; rotation
between aggregate and component life,
441-3 ; also dissimilarity between,
443-5, 400; effects of functional
specialization, 477 ; and of developed
nervous system, 508; factors affecting
species and individuals, 591-3 ; effect

SUBJECT-INDEX

877

of species-maintenance on, 694-7 ;
abridged by polygyny, 664.

Liver, the, evolution of, 465-72.

Lotus-worship, origin, 799.

Love, absent in uncivilized, 663.

Loyalty, extreme form, 512; to chief
and king, 514 ; instances, 551.

Lubbock, Sir J., on ants, 5 ; on dreams
suggesting an after-life, 182; com-
munal marriage and promiscuity,
632-6.

Ljall, Sir A. C, apotheosis in India, 283,
785, 787; religion of Kunjars, 784;
genesis of Indian cults, 787 ; Aryan
ancestor-worship, 812.

McLBNH AN, J. F., Primitive 'Marriage,
611-80, 642-9 ; on poljawlry, 642-9.

Magician, operations of, 240-6.

Maine, 8ir H. S., earliest social states,
681-92 ; the ancient and modern social
unit, 702, 712 ; status of women, 728.

Mammalia, species-maintenance in, 596,
597.

Man, antiquity of, 16; animal trans-
formation, 322 6,419; primitive limi-
tations to word, 399. Primitive (see
Primitive man).

Marion, H., criticism by, 586-8.

Markets, development of, 499.

Marriage, a sociologic study, 427 ; primi-
tively indefinite and transitory, 602-4,
605, 631, 643 ; between near relations,
606 ; effect of warfare on, 621 ; form
of capture in, 622-7; affectation of
uncivilized brides, 628 ; custom of
purchase, 625 ; " communal," 632 ;
disadvantage of unstable forms, 637-9;
causes affecting irregularity, 639;
industrialism favourable tot 721 ; and
status of women, 71 5-17, 738 ; parental
authority in England, 742 ; law of
evolution supported by, 745; probable
future, 753.

Medicine-men, primitively exorcists, 238 ;
cannibalism of, 265 ; deified by un-
civilized, 392-6, 411, 420 ; aided by
superior power, 781.

Metamorphoses, primitive ideas, 110-4,
120; varied kinds of organic, 564;
similarity of social and individual, 565,
675.

Metaphor, vagueness of, 335-7, 346, 370,
420.

Metempsychosis, belief in, 322-5, 845,
419.

Meteorology, social effects of climate,
10; and* temperature, 17-20, 425;
and dry and humid climates, 20-3,
425 ; and light, climate, fuel, 34, 425 ;
effect of climate on stature, 41 j
primitive interpretation, 105-8, 119,
413; rain-makers, weather-doctors,
212, 247, 392-5, 397, 420, 803; phe-
nomena attributed to ghosts, 217,
219, 416 ; interpretation of storms,
768, 772 ; and thunder and lightning,
769.

Migration, beliefs occasioned by, 201 ; a
form of social growth, 458 ; frequent
occurrence, 565-7; Quiche* legend of
search for the sun, 806.

Militiincy, develops social regulating
system, 608-13 ; centralization needful
to, 629 ; and industrialism, 544, 562,
686-8 ; compulsory co-operation of,
645-52, 562, 567, 749 ; causes obscur-
ing, 567-9; English re-development,
568-75 ; summary, 583 ; Marion's
criticism, 686-8 ; favourable to poly-
gyny, 674-80, 710 ; measure of, 675,
727 ; status of women, 722-8, 731,
737, 748-51, 755-8 * and children,
737-9, 741-3, 744.

Mimicry of insects, 112.

Mind (*e* Psychology).

Minerals, social effect*, ?4, 425.

Miracles, primitive belief in, 246, 248.

Mirage, primitive interpretation, 106,
766.

Mollutea, varied sizes of individual, 452,
vascular system, 497 ; distributing
system, 513; co-operation to external
actions, 522 ; metamorphoses, 564.

Monogamy, disapproved by savages, 6f 5 ;
McLennan on otigin, 613; develop-
ment from polyandry, 649 ; co-existing
with polygyny, 652-5 ; expresses
singleness of marriage, 667 ; antiquity,
667 ; social evolution favourable, 669 ;
favourable social effects, 669, 670-2 ;
is it the natural relation? 672;
characterizes industrialism, 674-80,
710, 731 ; ultimate sexual relation,
752-6.

Monogyny does not express singleness of
marriage, 667.

Moon, primitive ideas, 106 ; worship,
373-6, 384, 419; Max Mailer on
derivation of, 835.

Mortality correlated to reproduction.
691.

878

SUBJECT-INDEX.

»%

Motion, life implied by, 125.
Mountains, abode of the dead, 200, 214,

415 ; aid belief that other world is in

sky, 209-13, 214 ; thought to support

heaven. 210, 415 ; worship of, 364-7,

3S4, 419, 805.
Mourning (see Funerals).
Muir, Dr., on soma- worship, 348, 350.
Midler, Prof. F. Max, on Osiris and

Dionysus, 274 ; the dawn-myth, 369 ;

primitive conceptions of deity, 821.

828 j personalization of abstract

nouns, 825-8 ; dyu to beam, 81 6 ;

passage from the Rig-Veda, 831 ;

derivation of moon, 835 ; and rlkt

836.
Mummies, notions concerning, 300, 418 *,

idol-worship a development of wor-
ship °f> 302. 320, 418.
Mutilation, funeral and religious rite,

165, 267, 417, 801.
Mythologists, nature-worship interpreted

by, 362-4 ; and sun-worship, 375-81 ;

and religions, 681 ; theory of, 818-29 j

linguistic method, 830-7.
Mfixomycetes, shows aggregate life from

union of individuals, 441 ; distributing

system iu, 494.

Nabuohadnezzir, inscription of, 391.

Nails, the, power in, 243.

Names, personalized bv uncivilized, 242 ;
intrinsic power, 245, 273, 278; com-
munity arising from, 276; develop-
ment of proper-, 333-5 ; animal-, 335-7,
346, 419, 791-6 ; aid hybrid-worship,
341-6 ; primitive language without
" name/' 354 ; aid belief in plant-
ancestry, 355-7, 359, 419 ; reference
of birth- to incidents of moment, 364,
375, 419, 794 ; mountain- worship aided
by misinterpretation of, 367, 384, 419 ;
those derived from the sun, 380, 420 ;
sea- worship aided by misinterpreta-
tion of, 368, 384, 419; of streets,
469; a tribal-name founded, 793;
surnames substituted by animal-, 794 j
of constellations, 808.

Natural, a word primitively unknown,
215, 222.

Nature-worship, aided by linguist io per-
sonalization, 360-4, 384, 419; de-
veloping from ancestor-worship, 389.

Navvy, derivation, 833.

Negroes, resuscitation aj white-men,
170. j

Nerves, social analogies of, 525-9, f3lr.

(See also Psychology.)
Newspapers, evolution of, 523.
Nicaraguans, the, ancestor- worship, 287.

Oaths, administered near graven 274,

278.
Odin, power, 393 ; varied meanings,

830.
Officialism, English development, 570-4.
Ooium-eaters, religious character, 347.
Or giuality, antagonistic to imitation,

80-2.
O -iris, identified with Dionysus, 274.
Owls, transformed men, 328-31, 345,

419, 796, 798.

Pain, uncivilized indifferent to, 49-51,
52, 425.

Parasites, retrogression shown by, 94.

Parents, cost of species-imuutenance to,
594-600, 746 j welfare furthered by
children, 599.

T atria potestas, decline of, 704.

Patriarchal group, the, 685-701, 711.

Perception of uncivilized, 75- 7, 79, 425.

Perseverance of uncivilized, 59.

Personalization of abstract nouns, 825-9.

Philology (see Language).

Philoprogenitiveness of uncivilized, 67.

Physiology, vicarious action of functions,
475; evolution of alimentary canal,
433, 487, 4S9-92; causes arresting
digestion, 503 ; co-ordination requi-
site for alimentation, 527 ; varied
units as affecting fertility, 561.

Pilgrimages, development of, 275, 278,
417.

Plants (see Flora).

Plant- worship, toxic effects aid, 348-50,
359, 419; also belief in arboreal
descent, 351-4, 359, 419 ; plant-names
favourable to belief in plant-ancestry,
855-7, 359, 419 ; belief in plant-spirits
aids, 357-9, 419; lotus- and soma*
worship, 348-50, 799, 826.

Plato, on the state, 578, 580.

Polyandry, among lowest races, 608;
McLennan on, 612 ; and wife-stealing,
617; co-existing with polygyny, 618,
642 ; varied forms of, 643 ; develop-
ment, 644 ; effects, 645, 651 ; fraternal,
646; status of adults and children,
646-8 ; not implied by marriage with
deceased brother's widow, 048-50;
decay, 651.

SUBJECT-INDEX.

879

Polygamy (see Polygyny).

Polygyny, associated with wife-stealing,
616 ; co-existing with polyandry, CIS,
642; prevalence and restrictions on,
652-6 ; causes fostering, 655-8 ; higher
than promiscuity and polyandry, 658,
666; social effects, 659-64, 666;
modified forms, 664; favoured by
militancy, 669 ; also characterized by,

" 674-80, 710, 731.

Portraits, powers attributed to, 242 ;
feelings occasioned by, 305, 418;
wuking-visiou caused by, 776.

Possession, feeling of, 53, GO.

Post, derivation, 835.

Poverty, restricts polygyny, 653,

Praise, funeral ana religious rite, 263-70,
277, 417.

Prayers, development, 270-2, 277, 417.

Prevision, absent in primitive man, 73.

Primitive ideas, ascertained with diffi-
culty, 93-8.

Primitive man, fragmentary evidence of,
37-9 ; size and height, 40-2, 51, 425 ;
and structure, 42-5, 51 ; amount of food,
46-7, 51 ; strength and endurance, 47,
52, 425 ; indifferent to pain, 49-51,
52, 425 ; early maturity, 51 ; summary
of physical character, 51, 425 ; emo-
tional evolution, 53-5; feeling of
]K>ssession, 53; impulsitcness and ex-
citability, 55-9, 72, 425 ; industry and
) erseverance, 59 ; improvidence, 59-
61, 71, 72, 425 ; independence, 61-3,
425; vanity, 64, 72, 825; parental
feelings, 66 ; cruelty, 67-9 ; conserva-
tism, 7&i intellectual evolution, 73-5,
88-91 ; abstraction and generalisation
absent in, 74, 79, 83, 85, 89, 621,
825-9 ; unreflective, 77-80 ; percep-
tion, 75-7; lack of surprise, 85, 90,
823, 829 ; and curiosity, 86, 90, 823,
829 ; and ingenuity, 87 ; and imagina-
tion, 87,821,829; ideas, 93-8; con-
ceptions of duality favoured ; — by me-
teorology and astronomy, 105-8, 119 ;
—fossils, 108-10, 120;— birds, 111;—
insects, 112 ; — shadows, 114-6, 117,
120 ;— reflections, 116-8, 120 ;—eehnes,
118-20; mind an abstraction to, 132 ;
belief concerning the dead, 169 ; sum-
mary showing inaptitude for advance,
425 ; uncritical and unsceptical, 766.
i See alto Life.)
Primitive Marriage, by J. F. McLennan,
611-30, 642-9.

I Promiscuity, prevalence, 6*31 ; causes
' qualifying, 632-5 ; kinship through
females, a result, 636-7 ; socially dis-
advantageous, 637-9 ; cauies diminish-
ing, 639 ; the definiteness of advance
from, 642 ; effect of social evolution,
752.
Property, ideas of uncivilized concerning,

633, 688-91.
Protestantism, belief in inspiration, 285 ;
exorcism, 239 ; ancestor-worship in,
295.
Protozoa, similarity of size in, 452 ;
without distributing system, 494;
duration of parental life, 594.
Psychology, nerve underlies strength,
48; sensation of the uncivilized and
utilized, 49-51, 52, 425; emotional
evolution, 53-5 ; emotions of primitive
man, 55-9, 425 ; intellectual evj>Uition,
73-5, 425 ; simple and complex facul-
ties, 77; mental analogous to bodily
nutrition, 78 ; unreflectiveness of the
uncivilized, 79 ; and their mental
grasp, 82-4, 89 ; and lack of ideas of
natural causation, 84 ; early maturity
of primitive intellect, 88 ; intellect of
children and uncivilized, 88-91 ; errors
of prevailing education, 96-8, 412 ; in-
tellectual evolution illustrated by
classification, 98-105 ; inconsistency of
primitive conceptions, 102-5; law of
evolution conformed to by primitive
mind, 119-22 ; mind primitively un-
thinkable, 132 ; dreams and primitive
conception of mind, 140-2 ; ideas of
mental disease, 227, 232, 416 ; mental
inspiration, 234-6, 416 ; mental effects
of food, 236; mental state of the
savage, 319 ; primitive man ill-adapted
for intellectual progress, 425; intel-
lectual development a sociologio study,
431 ; sentiency individual and social,
443-50; annuloM nervous system,
490, 513, 515 ; developed nervous
system favourable to life, 508 ; social
analogies of nerves, 516-21 ; uncritical
mind of savage, 766 ; similarity of
mental laws, 767 ; laws of nrind ig-
nored by Max Miillor, 818, 828, 837.
Pyramids show desire to protect the
dead, 162.

Quakkrs, belief in inspiration, 236.

Bailways, analogous to vascular system,

830

SUBJECT-INDEX.

497, 525 ; social effect* of, 574 ; de-
rivation of booking-office, 833.

Rain (see Meteorology).

Reeds, Zulu legendof descent from,
352.

Reflection absent in primitive man, 77-
80.

Reflections, primitive conceptions of,
116-8, 120, 413.

Regulating system, the, development of
social and individual, 479-82, 4S9-92,
516-21, 536 ; similar in society and
the individual, 483-5 ; developed by
conflict, 608-13; centralization of
evolution, 513-16 ; evolution of inter-
nuncial appliances, 521-6, 536 ; three
srstems of the social and individual,
526-36 ; compulsory co-operation of
militancy, 545-52, 562, 567; Bummary
of the social, 583.

Relationship (nee Kinship).

Relics, belief in power of, 244, 245, 391,
418, 780.

Religion, origin in beUef in the super-
natural, 243, 416 ^conservatism of,
256 ; similarity of funeral and re-
ligious rites, 263-8, 417; develop-
ment of funeral rites into worship,
276-9, 417 ; tribes without, 280, 281 ;
nominal and actual beliefs contrasted,
292 ; root of, in ancestor-worship,
411, 426 ; and fear of the dead, 426 ;
a sociologic study, 423 ; heterogeneity
of ecclesiastical functions, 464 ; mili-
tant form, 548 ; industrialism favour-
able, 555 ; harmonizes with militancy
at d industrialism, 574 ; hebraic, and
polygynv, 657; mycologists' inter-
pretation, 681 ; Iranian, 808-11, 816 ;
Turanian, 818.

Representativeness, shows mental de-
velopment, 54 ; emotional in primitive
man, 72 ; and intellectual, 73-5.

Reproduction correlated to mortality,
591.

Resurrection, beliefs concerning, 166-8,
414.

Retrogression of evolution, 93-6.

Rig- Veda, the, on soma- worship, 848 ;
two translations of passage from, 831.

River, social effect, 26 ; the other world
situated down one, 206-8, 213, 415 ;
two worlds separated by, 206-8, 213,
415; eddies attributed to ghost
agency, 218.

Roads, analogies of, 495-3.

Robbers, worship of, 785.

Roman Catholicism (see Catholicism).

Borne, status of women in, 723; and

children, 740.
Royal Society and barnacles. 111.
Russians, the, superstitions, 780, 801-3.

Sacrifices, development of religious,
257-61, 277, 417 ; similarity of funera'
and religious, 263-8, 277, 417, 782
numbers used at, 271.

Sanskrit, indefiniteness of, 288, 826, 829,
830, 836 ; solar synonyms and homo-
nyms of, 827.

Sarama, interpretation of, 369, 830.

Science, methods of, 818.

Sea, the, worship of, 367, 384, 419.

Serpents (see Snakes).

Sexes, relation between, a sociologie
study, 427 ; early forms of, 601 ;
evolution of, 607-10, 686; probuble
future, 752-5.

Shadows, primitive conceptions of, 114-
6, 117, 120, 142, 413, 801 ; identified
with the soul, 175, 177, 321, 820;
cause of belief in animal- and plaut-
souls, 176-8.

Shamanism, Bancroft on, 245; of the
Accadians, 816.

Sight, of the uncivilised, 75-7.

Skin, effect of climate on colour, 23.

Skull, evidence of, concerning primitive
man, 37 ; structure in primitive man,
44; the soul thought to reside in,
301.

Sleep, similar to apoplexy, 144; and
death, 152. (See also Dreams.)

Sleep-walking, primitive interpretation
of, 136, 413.

Snakes, deaths caused by, 32 ; transformed
men, 325-8, 345, 419, 798; worship,
340, 341, 344, 799 ; snake-ancestry of
Moquis, 797 ; represented on grave
stones, 798; Russian affection for,
802.

Sneezing, primitive interpretation, 225,
232, 416, 777.

Sociability, of uncivilized, 65-9, 71, 425.

Social evolution (see Society).

Social Statics, 748.

Society, nature of, 8 * influence of units,
11, 14; and neighbouring societies, 12,
14 ; an entity, 435 ; similar to living
body, 436,450; classified, 537-44, 562,
583 ; militancy and industrialism, 544}
compulsory co-operation of militancy,

SUBJECT-INDEX.

881

546-52, 662, 667, 678 ; and voluntary
of industrialism, 652-7, 662, 678;
causes obscuring militancy and in-
dustrialism, 657-9 ; possible future of,
663 ; migrations, 665 ; metamorpho-
ses, 665-7 ; redevelopment of Euro-
pean militancy, 568-75 ; summary of
growth and development, 680-4 ; law
of evolution supported by, 584 ; Ma-
rion's criticism, 686-8 ; effect of pro-
miscuity, 637-9 ; and polyandry, 646-
8; and polygyny, 669-64, 666, 674-
80, 710, 731 ; and monogamy, 670-
2, 674-80, 710, 731 ; analysis of, 681 ;
earliest states, 681-92; without go-
vernment, 687 ; patriarchal and pas-
toral types, 692-701, 711 ; family type,
701-6, 712 ; State interference, 705-7 ;
rtgime of family ill-adapted to, 707-9,
712 ; extinction of lower forms not
implied by evolution, 751.

Society, the organic analogies from — de-
velopment, 437, 438, 450, 451, 466-7,
471 ; division of labour, 439-41, 450,
461-3; relation of aggregate life to
components, 441-5, 450; social dis-
creteness and individual concrete-
new, 445-7, 450, 504-6; effect of
language, 447 ; sentiency, 448-50; in-
tegration of evolution, 452-7 ; and
coherence, 457; and heterogeneity,
469-61, 463-5 ; dependence of parts,
473-6; functional vicariousneee, 476-
7; development of regulating, sus-
taining, and distributing systems,
479-85, 489-92; dependence of sus-
taining system on natural condi-
tions, 4S6-9, 492 ; similarity of dis-
tributing systems, 494-8; and their
movements, 498-600, 505 ; and hetero-
geneity of currents, 601, 605 ; compe-
tition for nutrition, 502-4, 606; de-
velopment of regulating systems, 503-
13, 626-36; centralization, 513-6;
increasing complexity, 516-21, 536;
internuncio! appliances of evolution,
621-6, 53G ; traits from union of like
and unlike units, 559-62, 5<i3 ; meta-
morphoses, 665, 575 ; rigidity follow-
ing evolution, 576-8; the analogy
which is asserted, 680.

Sociology, data, 3-342 ; scope and aims
of, 424-32 ; inductions, 435-587.

Socrates on the State, 578.

Soma, worship of, 348-50, 799, 826 ; the
tree of knowledge, 351.

Somerville, Mrs., on verbal personaliza-
tion, 861.

Somnambulism, interpretation of, 186,
413.

Sons («ee Children).

Sorcerers, deified by uncivilized, 891,
420.

Sorcery, genesis, 240-6, 416, 780; at-
tributed to supernatural agency, 246,
416 ; induces belief in metempsychosis,
823.

Soul, the, substantiality, 172-6, 180,
414; allied nature of soul, shadow,
ghost, etc., 176, 820; animal- and
pliint-souls, 176-8, 419 ; kinds classified,
178-80; and body, 180; only pos-
sessed by chiefs, 181 ; separate from
body, 775-7; wanders, 777; causes
disease, 777 ; Russian beliefs, 801.

Species, welfare, 591-3 ; cost of main-
taining, 594-600, 746.

Spine, development of, 463, 472.

"Spirit of the Lord," interpretation,
816.

Spirits (tee Ghosts).

Spiritualism, belief in, 139, 819.

Sponge, relation of aggregate life to
components shown by, 441; inde-
pendence of parts, 474; co-ordinat-
ing centres absent, 521.

Stars, primitive ideas, 105, 807, 808,
810; the coyote among, 872, 769 j
worship, 371-3, 384, 419, 806, 811.

State, the, industrial restrictions, 531 ;
extended administration, 568-75 ; as-
sumption of parental responsibility,
705-7, 712 ; r*>me, 707-9, 712 ; pro-
bable effect of female legislation, 757;
and the family, ethics of, 758.

Stature of civilized and primitive man,
40-2, 49, 51, 425.

Stones, reverenced, 310; placed in mouths
of dead, 311 ; contain ghosts, 789-91.

Strength, of the civilized and uncivilized,
47, 52, 425 ; dependent principally on
nerve, 48; of supernatural agents,
233.

Structure correlated to function, 526.

Suez Canal, purchase, 573.

Suicide from funeral mutilations, 165;
to accompany the dead, 766.

Sumptuary laws, stringency, 550.

Sun, the, social effects, 20 ; primitive ideas,
105, 823 ; refractions caused by, 218 ;
worship, 375-84, 419 ; primitive in-
terpretation of eclipse, 769, 772;

8 L

882

SUBJECT-INDEX.

. Quiche* legend, 806; Sanskrit syno-
nyms and homonyms, 827.
Supernatural, qualifications applying to,

215; tribes without idea of, 280;

applied to incomprehensible objects,

886, 411 ; origin, 772.
Surprise, absent in primitive man, 86, 90.
Sustaining system, development of the

social and individual, 479-82, 489-92 ;

and similarity, 433-5 j co-ordination

necessary, 527 j summary of social,

582.
Swoon, primitive interpretation, 143,

146, 147, 149, 414.
Sympathy of the uncivilized, 65-9, 71,

425.
Syncope, primitive interpretation, 143,

414.
Synthesis applied to social phenomena,

681, 822.

Tahiti, flora, 29.

Tape-worm, reproduction of, 595.

Teeth of primitive man, 44, 46 ; extrac-
tion, a funeral and religious rite, 267.

Telegraphs, analogous to nerves, 525;
State purchase, 571 ; social effects, 574.

Temples, development, 250-4, 277, 417,
781 ; and fires in, 273, 277.

Thunder, primitive interpretation, 769,
772.

Tigers, deaths in India caused by, 32.

Tobacco reverenced, 350.

Tombs, development into temples, 250-4,
277, 417, 781.

Topes, of India, development, 255.

Toryism defined, 573.

Totemism, choice of totem, 276; sub-
sequent to animal- worship, 346.

Trade (see Industry).

Travellers, dissimilar reports of, 65 ;
veracity of, 683.

Tree {tee Flora).

Tumuli, origin, 162, 255, 417.

Uncivilized, the (see Primitive man).

United States, the, order of social evo-
lution, 472; status of women, 729;
and children, 743, 759.

Canity of the uncivilized, 64, 72, 825.

Vascular system, social analogies of vaso-
motor nerve, 525 j and its action, 534.
(See also Heart.)

Ventriloquism practised by uncivilized,
826.

Vertebrata, sixes of individual, 452 ; in-
creasing specialization, 483, 472;
nervous integration, 517 ; nervous
systems, 528; cost of species-mainte-
nance, 596, 597.

Vine, thought supernatural, 850, 419.

Visions, occurrence of, 145 ; belief in,
774; waking-, of P. G. Fleay, 775-7.

Volcanoes, primitive interpretation, 771.

Waking- visions, belief in, 774; of F.
O. Fleay, 775-7.

Wales, political integration, 24.

" Walking-stick " and "walking-leaf"
insects, 112, 113, 140.

Wallace, A. R., on insect mimicry, 112 ;
probable apotheosis of, 397.

Warfare, social effects, 12, 14, 553 ; idols,
cause of, 266, 548; effects on social
regulating system, 508-13; unknown
to Esquimaux, 509 ; produces coercive
rSffime, 567-74; cause of exogamy,
619-22 ; caused by food-stealing, 627;
increases polygyny, 659, 666; female
aid, 720 ; a trait of prehistoric legends,
822,829.

Weapons, perseverance in making, 59;
skill of uncivilised with, 77 ; the dead
supplied with, 184, 205, 415.

Weather (tee Meteorology).

Whirlwinds attributed to ghost agency,
218, 803.

Widows, sacrifice of, 186-9, 551, 782 ;
transferred to near relations, 649,
661.

Wife-stealing, a cause of kinship through
females, 612-14 ; McLennan on, 614 ;
associated with polygyny, 616; and
warfare, 619-22; favourable to mar-
riage by capture, 622-7.

Wind, primitive ideas, 107, 108.

Wives, sacrifice of, 186, 551, 782, 801 ;
practice of lending, 604 ; transferred
to near relations, 649, 661 ; labour ob-
tained from, 656. (See also Marriage.)

Wolf of Badenoch, legend, 794.

Women, industry, 60 ; treatment shows
altruistic sentiments, 69, 72 ; fighting
of, and for, 601 ; kinship reckoned
through, 686, 691 ; and moral progress,
713 ; right of chieftainship, 715 ; ef-
fect of marriage by capture and pur-
chase, 715-7; division of labour
among, 717-22 ; industrialism, mili-
tancy, and status of, 722-30, 731, 737,
748-51 ; status of Egyptian, 726 ; pro-

mm

SUBJECT-INDEX.

883

table future status and effects, 755-8 ;
the right education of children, func-
tion for, 757.

Words (see Language and Names).

Wordsworth, Bishop, on cremation,
167.

World, the other, conceptions of its di-
rection, 202, 213, 415 ; is underground,
204, 218 ; separated by river, 206, 213,
415 1 down a river, 206-8, 213, 415;

over sea, 207, 213, 415 ; the belief in
two, 208, 213, 800; in the sky, 209-
13, 415; summary of ideas concern-
ing, 213, 415 ; Esquimaux ideas, 807.

Yawning, primitive interpretation, 225,
232, 416.

Zihd-Avbsta, Soma identical with
Haoma, 350 ; ancestor- worship in, 809.

ERRATA.

Page 165, line 24> for « orb" read « sirih."

468, „ 2, " arrow . . . profession " should not be within quotation mark*.
626, „ 16, for " through " read " though."

636, „ 19, "prevails . . . America" should not he within quotation marks.
723, „ 80, for " remarkable " read " remarkably."

»»
»

V •

HARBISON AjfD SONS, PRINTERS IM ORDINARY TO HBR MAJB3TT, ST. MARTI*'* LANS.

J£R HERBERT SPENCER'S WORKS.

A SYSTEM OF SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY.

§th Thousand.
(with an appendix dealing with criticisms.)

In one voL 8vo, cloth, price 16s.,

FIRST PRINCIPLES.

CONTENTS.

Part I. — The Unknowable.

1. Religion and Science.

2. Ultimate Religious Ideas.

3. Ultimate Scientific Ideas.

4. The Relativity of All Know-

ledge.

5. The Reconciliation.

Part II. — The Know able.

1. Philosophy Defined.

2. The Data of Philosophy.

3. Space, Time, Matter, Motion,

and Force.

4. ThelndestructibilityofMatter.

5. The Continuity of Motion.

6. The Persistence of Force.

7. The Persistence of Relations

among Forces.

8. The Transformation and Equi-

valence of Forces.

9. The Direction of Motion.

10. The Rhythm of Motion.

11. Recapitulation, Criticism, and

Recommencement.

12. Evolution and Dissolution.

13. Simple and Compound Evolu-

tion.

14. The Law of Evolution.

15. The Law of Evolution, con-

tinued.

16. The Law of Evolution, con-

tinued.

17. The Law of Evolution, con-

cluded.

18. The Interpretation of Evolu-

tion.

19. The Instability of the Homo-

geneous.

20. The Multiplication of Effects.

21. Segregation.

22. Equilibration.

23. Dissolution.

24. Summary and Conclusion.

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THE PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY.

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
Part I.— The Data of Biology.

1. Organic Matter.

2. The Actions of Forces on Or-

ganic Matter.

3. The Re-actions of Organic

Matter on Forces.

4. Proximate Definition of Life.

5. The Correspondence between

Life and its Circumstances.

6. The Degree of Life varies as

the Degree of Correspond-
ence.

7. The Scope of Biology.

MB. HERBERT 8PENCJBB'S WORKS.

Part EL — The Inductions op
Biology.

1. Growth.

2. Development

3. Function.

4. Waste and Repair.

5. Adaptation.
6! Individuality.

7. Genesis.

8. Heredity.

9. Variation.

10. Genesis, Heredity, and Vari-

ation.

11. Classification.

12. Distribution.

Part IIL — Thk Evolution op
Life.

1. Preliminary.

2. General Aspects of the Special-

Creation-Hypothesis.

3. General Aspects of the Evo-

lution-Hypothesis.

4. The Arguments from Classi-

fication.

5. The Arguments from Embry-

ology.

6. The Arguments from Mor-

phology.

7. The Arguments from Distri-

bution.

8. How is Organic Evolution

caused?

9. Ezlernal Factors.

10. Internal Factors.

11. Direct Equilibration.

12. Indirect Equilibration.

13. The Co-operation of the Fac-

tors.

14. The Convergence of the Evi-

dences.

Appendix.

The Spontaneous-Generation
Question.

CONTENTS OF VOL. IL

Part IV. — Morphological
Development,

1. The Problems of Morphology.

2. The Morphological Composi-

tion of Plants.

3. The Morphological Composi-

tion of Plants, continued.

4. The Morphological Composi-

tion of Animals.

5. The Morphological Composi-

tion of Animals, continued.

6. Morphological Differentiation

in Plants.

7. The General Shapes of Plants.

8. The Shapes of Branches.

9. The Shapes of Leaves.

10. The Shapes of Flowers.

11. The Shapes of Vegetal Cells.

12. Changes of Shape otherwise

caused.

13. Morphological Differentiation

in Animals.

14. The General Shapes of Ani-

mals.

15. The Shapes of Vertebrate

Skeletons.

16. The Shapes of Animal Cells.

17. Summary of Morphological

Development.

Part V. — Physiological
Development.

1. The Problems of Physiology.

2. Differentiations between the

Outer and Inner Tissues of
Plants.

3. Differentiations among the

Outer Tissues of Plants.

4. Differentiations among the

Inner Tissues of Plants.
6. Physiological Integration in
Plants.

6. Differentiations between the

Outer and Inner Tissues of
Animals.

7. Differentiations among the

Outer Tissues of Animals.

8. Differentiations among the

Inner Tissues of Animals.

9. Physiological Integration in

Animals.
10. Summary of Physiological De-
velopment

MM. HERBERT SPENCER'S WORKS.

a

Part VL — Laws of Multiplica-
tion.
]. The Factors.
S. A Priori Principle.

3. Obverse & priori Principle.

4. Difficulties of Inductive Veri-

fication.

5. Antagonism between Growth

and Asexual Genesis.

6. Antagonism between Growth

and Sexual Genesis.

7. Antagonism between Develop-

ment and Genesis, Asexual
and SexuaL

8. Antagonism between Expen-

diture and Genesis.

9. Coincidence between high
Nutrition and Genesis.

10. Specialities of these Relations.

11. Interpretation and Qualifica-

tion.

12. Multiplication of the Human

Race,

13. Human Evolution in the

Future.

Appendix.

A Criticism on Professor Owen's
Theory of the Vertebrate Skele-
ton.

On Circulation and the Formation
of Wood in Plants.

4th Thousand.

(WITH AN ADDITIONAL PART.)

In two vols. 8vo, cloth, price 36s.,

THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

Part I. — TheDataofPsychology

1. The Nervous System.

2. The Structure of the Nervous

System.

3. The Functions of the Nervous

System.

4. The Conditions essential to

Nervous Action.

5. Nervous Stimulation and

Nervous Discharge.

6. -rfEstho-Physiology.

Part IL — Thb Inductions of
Psychology.

1. The Substance of Mind.

2. The Composition of Mind.

3. The Relativity of Feelings.

4. The Relativity of Relations

between Feelings.

5. The Bevivability of Feelings.

6. The Bevivability of Relations

between Feelings.

7. The Associability of Feelings.

8. The Associability of Relations

between Feelings.

9. Pleasures and Pains,

Part IIL — General Synthesis.

1. Life and Mind as Correspond-

ence.

2. The Correspondence as Direct

and Homogeneous.

3. The Correspondence as Direct

but Heterogeneous.

4. The Correspondence as ex-

tending in Space.

6. The Correspondence as ex-
tending in Time.

6. The Correspondence as in-

creasing in Speciality.

7. The Correspondence as' in-

creasing in Generality.

8. The Correspondence as in-

creasing in Complexity.

9. The Co-ordination of Cor-

respondences.

10. The Integration of Corres-
pondences.

II The Correspondences in their
Totality.

a 2

MM. HERBERT STENCHES WORKS.

Part IV. — Special Synthesis.

1. The Nature of Intelligence.

2. The Law of Intelligence.

3. The Growth of Intelligence.

4. Reflex Action.

5. Instinct.

6. Memory.

7. Reason.

8. The Feelings.

9. The Will.

Part V. — Physical Synthesis.

1. A Further Interpretation

Needed.

2. The Genesis of Nerves.

3. The Genesis of Simple Ner-

vous Systems.

4. The Genesis of Compound

Nervous Systems.

5. The Genesis of Doubly-Com-

pound Nervous Systems.

6. Functions as Related to these

Structures.

7. Psychical Laws as thus Inter-

pre ted.

8. Evidence from Normal Varia-

tions.

9. Evidence from Abnormal

Variations,
10. Results.

Appendix.

On the Action of Anaesthetics and
Narcotics.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

Part VI. — Special Analysis.

1. Limitation of the Subject.

2. Compound Quantitative Rea-

soning.

3. Compound Quantitative Rea-

soning, continued.

4. Imperfect and Simple Quan-

titative Reasoning.

5. Quantitative Reasoning in

General.

6. Perfect Qualitative Reason-

ing.

7. Imperfect Qualitative Reason-

ing.

8. Reasoning in General.

9. Classification, Naming, and

Recognition.

10. The Perception of Special Ob-

jects.

11. -The Perception of Body as

presenting Dynamical, Sta-
tico-Dynamical, and Stati-
cal Attributes.

12. The Perception of Body as

presenting Statico-Dynami-
cal and Statical Attributes.

13. The Perception of Body as pre-

senting Statical Attributes.
34. The Perception of Space.

15. The Perception of Time.

16. The Perception of Motion.

17. The Perception of Resistance

18. Perception in General.

19. The Relations of Similarity

and Dissimilarity.

20. The Relations of Cointensioo

and Non-Cointension.

21. The Relations of Coextension

and Non-Coextension.

22. The Relations of Coexistence

and Non-Coexistence.

23. The Relations of Connature

and Non-Connature.

24. The Relations of Likeness and

TJnlikeness.

25. The Relation of Sequence.

26. Consciousness in General.

27. Results.

Part VII. — General Analysis.

1. The Final Question.

2. The Assumption of Meta-

physicians.

3. The Words of Metaphysicians.

4. The Reasonings of Metaphysi-

cians.

5. Negative Justification of Real-

ism.

6. Argument from Priority.

MR. HERBERT SPENCER'S WOMKS.

Part VII. — continued.

7. TheArgument from Simplicity.

8. The Argument from Distinct-

ness.

9. A Criterion Wanted.

10. Propositions qualitatively dis-

tinguished.

11. The Universal Postulate.

12. The test of Relative Validity.

13. Its Corollaries.

14. Positive Justification of Real-

ism.

15. The Dynamics of Conscious-

ness.

16. Partial Differentiation of Sub-

ject and Object.

17. Completed Differentiation of

Subject and Object

18. Developed Conception of the

Object

19. Transfigured Realism.

| Part VIII. — Congeuitiks,

1. Preliminary.

2. Co-ordination of Data and
Inductions.

3. Co-ordination of Syntheses.

4. Co-ordination of Special
Analyses.

5. Co-ordination of General
Analyses.

6. Final Comparison.

Part IX. — Corollaries.

1. Special Psychology.

2. Classification.

3. Development of Conceptions.

4. Language of the Emotions.

5. Sociality and Sympathy.

6. Egoistic Sentiments.

7. Ego- Altruistic Sentiments.

8. Altruistic Sentiments

9. ^Esthetic Sentiments.

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THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY,

CONTENTS.

Part L — The Data of Sociology".

1. Super-Organic Evolution.

2. The Factors of Social Phe-

nomena.

3. Original External Factors.

4. Original Iuternal Factors.

5. The Primitive Man — Physical

6. The Primitive Man— Emo-

tional.

7. The Primitive Man— Intel-

lectual

8. Primitive Ideas.

9. The Ideas of the Animate and

the Inanimate.
10. The Ideas of Sleep and Dreams.

11. The Ideas of Swoon, Apo-

plexy, Catelepey, Ecstacy,
and other forms of Insen-
sibility.

12. The Ideas of Death and

Resurrection.

13. The Ideas of Souls, Ghosts,

Spirits, Demons.

14. The Ideas of Another Life.

15. The Ideas of Another World.

16. The Ideas of Supernatural

Agents.

17. Supernatural Agents as caus-

ing Epilepsy and Convul-
sive Actions, Delirium and
Insanity , Disease and Death

"MR. HERBERT SPENCER'S WORKS.

Part L— continued.

18. Inspiration, Divination, Exor-

cism, and Sorcery.

19. Sacred Places, Temples, and

Altars ; Sacrifice, Fasting,
and Propitiation ; Praise
and Prayer.

20. Ancestor- Worship in General.

21. Idol-Worship and Fetich-Wor-

ship.

22. Animal-Worship.

23. Plant- Worship.

24. Nature- Worship.

25. Deities.

2a The Primitive Theory of

Things.
27. The Scope of Sociology.

Part II.— The Inductions of
Sociology.

1. What is a Society ?

2. A Society is an Organism.

3. Social Growth.

4. Social Structures.

5. Social Functions.

6. Systems of Organs.

7. The Sustaining System.

8. The Distributing System.

9. The Regulating System.

10. Social Types and Constitutions.

11. Social Metamorphoses.

12. Qualifications and Summary.

Part III. — The Domestic
Relations.

1. The Maintenance of Species.

2. The Diverse Interests of the

Species, of the Parents, and
of the Offspring.
3l Primitive Relations of the
Sexes.

4. Exogamy and Endogamy.

5. Promiscuity.

6. Polyandry.

7. Polygyny.

8. Monogamy.

9. The Family.

10. The Status of Women.

11. The Status of Children.

12. Domestic Retrospect and

Prospect

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1 . Ceremony in GeneraL

2. Trophies.

3. Mutilations*

4. Presents.

5. Visits.

6. Obeisances.

7. Forms of Address.

8. Titles.

9. Badges and Costumes.

10. Further Class-Distinctions.

11. Fashion.

12. Ceremonial Retrospect and

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POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS,

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CONTENTS.

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2. Political Organization in

General

3. Political Integration.

4. Political Differentiation.

5. Political Forms and Forces.

6. Political Heads — Chiefs,

Kings, etc.

7. Compound Political Heads.

8. Consultative Bodies.

9. Representative Bodies.
10. Ministries.

11. Local Governing Agencies.

12. Military Systems.

13. Judicial Systems.

14. Laws.

15. Property.

16. Bevenue.

17. The Militant Type of Society

18. The Industrial Type of

Society.

19. Political Retrospect and

Prospect.

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CONTENTS.

1. Conduct in General

2. The Evolution of Conduct

3. Good and Bad Conduct

4. Ways of Judging Conduct

5. The Physical View.

6. The Biological View.

7. The Psychological View.

8. The Sociological View.

9. Criticisms and Explanations.

10. The Relativity of Pains and

Pleasures.

11. Egoism versus Altruism.

12. Altruism verms Egoism.

13. Trial and Compromise.

14. Conciliation.

15. Absolute Ethics and Relative

Ethics.

16. The Scope of Ethics.

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EDUCATION:

INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, AND PHYSICAL.

CONTENTS.
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Worth f 4. Phvrical Education.

t. Intellectual Education. |

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THE STUDY OP SOCIOLOGY.

1. Our Need of it

'■!.. la there a Social Science 1

3. Nature of the Social Science.

4. Difficulties of the Social

8. The Educational Bias.

9. The Bias of Patriotism.

10. The Class-Bias.

11. The Political Bias.
IS. The Theological Bias,
13. Discipline.

14 Preparation in Rinloirv.

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ESSAYS:

SCIENTIFIC, POLITICAL, AND SPECULATIVE.
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CONTENTS

1. Progress : its Law afld Cause.

2. Manners and Fashion.
3b The Genesis of Science.

4. The Physiology of Laughter.

5. The Origin and Function of

Music.

6. The Nebular Hypothesis.

7. Bain on the Emotions and the

WilL

CONTENTS

1. The Philosophy of Style.

2. Over-Legislation.

3. The Morals of Trade,

4. Personal Beauty.

5. Representative Government.

6. Prison Ethics.

7. Bailway Morals and Railway

Policy.

OF VOL. I.

8. Illogical Geology.

9. The Development Hypothesis.

10. The Social Organism.

11. Use and Beauty.

12. The Sources of Architectural
Types.

13. The Use of Anthropomor-
phism.

OF VOL. II.

8. Gracefulness.

9. State-Tamperings with Money
and Banks.

10. Parliamentary Reform : the

guards.

11. MiS versus Hamilton — the
Test of Truth.

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CONTENTS.

1. The Classification of the

Sciences (with a Postscript,
replying to Criticisms).

2. Reasons for Dissenting from

the Philosophy of M. Comte.

3. Laws in General

4. The Origin of Animal- Worship.

5. Specialized Administration.

6. "The Collective Wisdom."

7. Political Fetichism.

8. What is Electricity ?

9. The Constitution of the Son.

10. Mr. Martineau on Evolution.

11. Replies to Criticisms.

12. Transcendental Physiology.

13. The Comparative Psychology
of Man.

I

10 MS. X3BBXMT SPENCBB'S WOBKS.

DESCRIPTIVE SOCIOLOGY;

OB OBOPP* Ot

SOCIOLOGICAL FACTS,

OUnmiD AND ABBAROBD BT

HERBERT SPENCER,

COMPIUtD AND ABITBAOTBD BT

DAVID DUNCAN, M.A., Frofoeor of Logic, Ac, in the Presidency College,
MadiMj RICHARD 8CHEPPIG, Ph.D.; and JAMES COLLIER.

EXTRACT FROH THB PROVISIONAL PREFACE.

SuniMblnK to lntrodnce the work of which an uutalment la umeisd, mttui needful, in

In preparation fur The Prinriplu of Sociology, requiring u bun of Induction large aoro-

proiy, the collection ud organization of full preaeated bj aodetiei of different ijpia, peat
utd proeent; being fortunate enough to Mean the ncnicai of gentlemen competent la
cmiry du the procena In tbe way I viahed. Though thk tinaaifled compilation of matoriuli
ni entered upon aolelj to facilitate mj own work ; jet, after having brought tbe mode at
clnaaiflcation to a eatlefaeloiT form, ud after Baring bad Mine of the Tablee tilled on, 1
decided to hare the □ndertaklng eiecuted with a vie- to pnblicmtlon ; tbe facta coOeutd
and arranged for eaay reference and conTenlent atudj of their relation*, being no praaentad,
apart from hypotbeeLB, aa I
tlKj hare drawn and in di

conclualonB of tbe biologiat. Until there had been mch ayatematic deacrlpckma ot i
kind* of organiama, aa made It poaalble to compare the eonnexlona, and forma, and a
and modea of origin, of their parte, tbe Science of Life mold make no pronreaa, .
1 Ike manner, before there can be reached In Sociology, gwwraUaatlene baling a w

JTB. BJS&BBMT SPENCER'S WORKS. 11

making them worthy to be called scientific, there most he definite account* of the Institu-
tion* and actions of societies of various types, and in various stages of evolution, so arranged
as to furnish the means of readily ascertaining what social phenomena are habitually
associated.

Bespecting the tabulation, devised for the purpose of exhibiting social phenomena in a
convenient way, I may explain that the primary aim has been so to present them that their
relations of simultaneity and succession may be seen at one view. As used for delineating
uncivilized societies, concerning which we have no records, the tabular form serves only to
display the various social traits as they are found to co-exist. But as used for delineating
societies having known histories, the tabular form is so employed as to exhibit not only the
connexions of phenomena existing at the same time, but also the connexions of phenomena
that succeed one another. By reading horizontally across a Table at any period, there may
be gained a knowledge of the traits of all orders displayed by the society at that period ; while
by reading down each column, there may be gained a knowledge of the modifications which
each trait, structural or functional, underwent during successive periods.

Of course, the tabular form fulfils these purposes but approximately. To preserve complete
simultaneity in the statements of facts, as read from side to side of the Tables, has proved
impracticable; here much had to be inserted, and there little; so that complete correspond-
ence in time could not be maintained. Moreover, it has not been possible to carry out the
mode of classification in a theoretically-complete manner, by increasing the number of
columns as the classes of facts multiply in the course of Civilization. To represent truly the
progress of things, each column should divide and sub-divide in successive ages, so as to
indicate the successive differentiations of the phenomena. But typographical difficulties have
negatived this: a great deal has had to be left in a form which must be accepted simply as the
least unsatisfactory,

The three Divisions constituting the entire work, comprehend three groups of societies :—
(1) Uncivilised Societies; (2) Civilised Societies— Extinct or Decayed; (8) Civilised Societies—
Recent or SHU Flourishing. These divisions have at present reached the following stages :—

Division I.— Uncivilised Societies. Commenced in 1867 by the gentleman I first engaged,
Mr. David Dvmgabt, M.A. (now Professor of Logic, Ac, in the Presidency College, Madras),
and continued by him since he left England, this part of the work is complete. It contains
four parts, inrhHttng "Types of Lowest Races," the " Negrito Races," the " Malayo-Polynesian
Bums," the "African Bums," the " Asiatic Races," and the u American Races."

Drvnnow II.— Civilised Societies— Extinct or Decayed. On this part of the work Dr. Rkbabd
Scnxme has been engaged since January, 1872. The first instalment, including the four
Ancient American Civilizations, was issued in March, 1874. A second instalment, containing
"Hebrews and Phoenicians," will shortly be issued.

Division 111.— Civilised Societies— Recent or 8till Flourishing. Of this Division the first
instalment, prepared by Mr. Jambs Coixnm, of St Andrew's and Edinburgh Universities, was
issued in August, 187S. This presents the English Civilization. It covers seven consecutive
Tables ; and the Extracts occupy seventy pages folio. The next part, presenting in a still
more extensive form the French Civilization, is now in the press.

The successive parts belonging to these several Divisions, issued at intervals, are composed
of different numbers of Tables and different numbers of Pages. The Uncivilized Societies
occupy four parts, each containing a dozen or more Tables, with their accompanying Extracts,
Of the Division comprising Extinct Civilized Societies, the first part contains four, and the
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Typks of Lowest Racks.
Fuegians.
Andamanese,
Veddahs.
Australians.

Negrito Races.
Tasmanians.
New Caledonians, etc.
New Guinea People.
Fijiana

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Bails.

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Santals.

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Mishmis.

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Ostyaks.

Kamtschadales.

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Chippewas.

Dakotas.

Mandans.

Creeks.

Guiana Tribes.

Caribs.

Brazilians.

Uaup68.

Abipones.

Patagonians.

Araucanians.

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RICHARD SCHEPPIG, Pu.D.
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